Blossom
by BionicSeahorses
Summary: Silvia Scott's father used to tell her fantastical stories about faeries and this land called the Nevernever, but she never believed him. She grew up to be a mature girl who did not care what people thought of her, but after something tragic occurs, she must face the things that she once thought were simple stories. Puck x OC
1. Chapter 1

****Disclaimer: I do not own any characters from the Iron Fey series or Midsummer Night's Dream. Alex, Alex's family, Silvia, and Silvia's family are characters that we have created. ****

Chapter 1

By the time I was five years old, I already didn't believe in the supernatural. There was no Tooth Fairy breaking into my bedroom when I had lost a tooth. There was no Easter Bunny hiding baskets of candy-filled eggs. There was no Santa Claus placing presents under the tree and stuffing goodies into stockings.

Those tall tales about giants, trolls, dwarves, unicorns, centaurs, elves, pixies, faeries-_ Lies_.

I remember in kindergarten, when all of the other little kids would la pretend and make up stories about being magical creatures and flying. I would stand by the wall and watch. A literal wallflower. I couldn't lie to myself and play those ridiculous, illogical, childish games.

I've never been good at making friends.

One day, the cutest boy in our kindergarten class -a package deal with dimples and Scooby Doo fruit snacks every day in his lunch box –came up to me and offered to have me join in their game. Then, he equated me to Rudolph, which set me aflame.

Holding my head high with my curly pigtails bouncing and my glasses firm, I sternly replied to him, "You guys are stupid. Stop fooling yourselves." I have always been mature, but this was possibly going overboard.

Pouting, he mumbled, "You're on fun!" He ran back to his friends, only after scornfully sticking his tongue out at me.

Thirteen years have passed, but not much has changed.

When I look in the mirror, I still see the same curly hair, but no pigtails. The same bright purple eyes, but no bulky glasses blocking them. The same despondent frown of a girl who was never good at talking to people. Everyone used to compliment me, saying that my bouncy hair was so fun and my lavender eyes were so exotic. After a few years of never receiving a response, or even a "thank you," they stopped complimenting me. Stopped talking to me completely.

Yeah, I kinda regret being such a prude when I was younger. Maybe I shouldn't have told Ben Ferguson that, if his imaginary friend was really a troll, he would have eaten Ben by now. Maybe if I hadn't told my entire first grade class that Santa Claus didn't exist, I could have avoided being sent home for making my _entire first grade class_ cry.

I regret doing those things, but as an eighteen-year-old in my last semester of high school, there wasn't much I could do. I was content with only one classmate speaking to me. I wasn't going to football games on Friday night. I wasn't chosen for any of the Senior Superlatives. I wasn't going to wild and crazy "My-parents-are-out-of-town-so-let's-get-drunk-and-look-surprised-when-we-get-caught" party. I was pretty vanilla, but I liked it that way.

I slumped out of bed and stomped down the stairs without brushing my hair or putting on a bra. My internal clock always woke me up around 5:30 so that I would have time to prepare mom's breakfast, take a shower, get ready, and then make my breakfast.

I could hear my mom's snoring echoing from the living room along with the humming static of a television on with the cable turned off. Sighing, I rubbed my eyes and trudged over to the living room, turning on each light as I made my way down the stairs and into the hallway. I flicked on the living room walls and crossed my arms at the awful, yet familiar, scene.

My mother was sprawled out on the couch, a blanket barely covering her body. I noticed the she was still wearing her outfit from yesterday, but it was wrinkled, so I made a mental note that that shirt needed some extra care when it came to laundry time. Her hand rested on her chest and fell in the rhythm of her snores. The smell of alcohol wafted around the air, so I didn't even have to look to tell that there was an empty bottle of whiskey in her free hand.

I stomped across the room and harshly shut off the buzzing television before I opened the curtains. My mom grunted and her right hand instinctively rose to shield her eyes. She was like a euglena; even with no eyes, she could still sense the light. She complained that the light gave her migraines. I continued to pull on the curtains until she finally stirred and glared at me with squinted eyes.

"Silvia, it's way too _early_ for that." Still squinting, she jabbed an odious finger at the window. I ignored her and walked out of the living room without saying a word. As soon as I was gone, I could hear my mom fall, pick herself up, and scramble from the couch to close the curtains. Her heavy footsteps followed mine to the kitchen.

"I'm making eggs this morning." I stated plainly as I grabbed the frying pan and switched on the gas stove. "I still haven't gotten ready, so you'll have to eat alone."

She nodded and slumped into a chair at the granite kitchen island, seeming more tired than the dead. Rubbing her temples, she murmured, "I had an awful dream last night…about your father."

My muscles tensed when I heard the word "father." A million things came to my mind, most of them involving negative emotions and words that I really don't think I should say. I focused on the eggs, not supplying my mom with the reaction that she was oh-so-impatiently waiting for.

"Make sure you drink lots of water, okay?" I ordered, lifting her eggs from the frying pan to a white ceramic plate. She nodded like an obedient child as I handed her the eggs. She picked at her eggs, seeming too tired and hung over to truly function. I took a deep breath, frustrated with her drunkenness, but thankful that she was at least docile this morning,

I took a quick shower, remembering that I had promised to meet someone at school early this morning. I started getting dressed around 6:15, deciding on a long-sleeved red sweater after looking out my window and seeing dark clouds. A traditional winter day in Virginia. I was often better at predicting the weather than the weathermen. And weatherwomen. I pulled on some skin-tight light blue jeans, knowing that no one would even notice if my muffin top hung out. No one ever noticed me anyway. I threw on some makeup, even though I only had a pitiful collection of lip gloss and eyeliner, and I checked to make sure I had my license and crappy cell phone.

I had no use for an iPhone or whatever. I had three contacts in my phone. I didn't have a Facebook or a Twitter or n Instagram. I only got on the internet to watch videos and check grades. As far as social media went, I didn't exist.

I found my iPod and the chord that would sync it to my car radio. My car was named Lisa, a '99 Nissan Altima with a blue exterior, seats with stains that were there before I bought her, a broken air conditioner, and a radio that couldn't play the radio. She was an old woman that sagged and occasionally sputtered smoke, but was a total trooper.

I grabbed a black and white striped hoodie on my way out the door at 7:00. I had this weird quirk where I had to keep my head covered at, like, _all times_. I was afraid that, if I didn't, my frizzy, curly hair would pop out and blind someone or something. I gave my mom a short goodbye and made my way to Starbucks for my daily fix.

The Starbucks down by the mall was packed by the time I had arrived. No one from school. No one even remotely teenager-looking. People were bustling to order their coffee, a slice of pumpkin bread, one of those weird looking green Nakeds, then rush to work in Norfolk. Norfolk was one of the closest real cities, with a coliseum and lots of big buildings. I loved cities, but for kind of a twisted reason. In the city, everyone was a wallflower. No one paid attention to anyone else on the street.

In my school it was unusual _not_ to stick out.

I smiled to my favorite barista, who had just come in from the back room with a warmed bagel for a customer. When he saw me, he waved. I knew that he didn't remember my name, but among all of this business, he still greeted my individually. I ordered a Caramel Frappuccino and thanked the barista quietly when he was done making it.

I drove back home for two reasons. The fake reason was that I had left my school bags at the front door. The real reason was that I had purposefully forgotten them, like I did every day, so that I would be intent to return home to check if my mother was awake or not. She had to work at 7:30, but when I walked through the front door, she was still lying in the same position on the couch. She was cradling her head on a pillow and breathing unevenly, clearly bordering on sleep.

I stomped over to the couch, which was wet and clump from her restless sleep and drool. I raised my voice and snarled, "I woke you up and hour and a half ago. You should be ready and leaving for work!"

She grumbled, but no words came out.

"If you're too drunk to go to-"

"I'm not drunk!"

"Then, do you feel like going to work?" I raised my eyebrow and glared at her with crossed arms. I always had to be the adult. Always. "If you don't feel like going, then at least call in sick. Just bear in mind: if you did that, you'll only have two more sick days to use for the rest of the year. And it's only February."

She frowned, but begrudgingly stood up. She wasn't dressed and she was going to be late for work, but it was better than not going at all. Her boss knew of her problem with alcohol, which I am not permitted to deem an 'addiction,' so he had gotten used to it. She was such a good paralegal when she was sober that he could accept her.

Once she was out the door and her car was out of the driveway, I left too. I would be a little late, but it would be fine. I would risk that for one more day of my mother having a job. I took what was left of my Starbucks into my broken cup holder and sped to school. Past suburb after suburb after WalMart. I lived in a boring city, but it was fitting. I didn't need excitement. I just needed really good books and a television with access to the History Channel. I liked science fiction and the classics, like Madame Bovary, Catcher in the Rye, and The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn.

Since I had zero to one friend, there was no one at school to make fun of me for being such a nerd. I was the salutatorian, behind an Asian girl named Jenifer Kim, only because she received an A in an Honors class back in Freshman year that I received an A- in.

I arrived at school around 8:00 and my car sputtered to a stop in the parking lot behind the school. Although the sun was shining, it was bitterly cold. I generally liked cold weather, but Virginia had a strange way of reaching below-freezing weather, yet never snowing. I stalked into school, holding my striped hoodie tightly against my body. I entered and made a bee line to the library, hoping that he would still be there.

I greeted the librarians. They talked to me sometimes because I always came in to check out books, but they could never remember my name.

Oh, it's Silvia Scott, by the way.

"Silvie!" I heard a familiar voice call enthusiastically from across the library. The librarians stared daggers at that idiot standing up near the non-fiction section.

Alex covered his mouth with his hand, embarrassed from his outburst. He blushed and sat back down, partially hiding his face behind his shoulder. I wasn't surprised from this awkward mistake. This was the same kid who sneezed during his yearbook picture last year and wasn't allowed to retake it. That was an amazing picture.

Alexander Pierce was my only friend. Literally my only friend. He transferred into my Honors World History class from Michigan two years ago. He was so shy on the first day that he only sat down and read some odd philosophical book until the bell rang. After he stuttered his name during roll call and received a wave of laugher from our classmates, he was mentally scarred. I felt bad so, even though I was awful at talking to people, I sent him a note, asking him about his schedule. We had basically the same one.

Somehow, we ended up becoming great friends. Best friends. He liked all the things that I liked. And since my mother was an alcoholic and my father was a person I would rather not speak of, I needed him in my life to make me laugh and calm me down every once in a while. We didn't have sexy sleepovers or naked pillow fights or anything, but he was the first person I would call if my car ran out of gas and I needed a ride, or I needed to know what our homework was, or I forgot the key to my house while my mom was at work and I needed a place to stay.

Although Alex was smart, he couldn't make it to the top ten percent of our class because of his fatal weakness: math. He was a Senior and currently getting a C in his second chance at Algebra 2. For some reason, he couldn't grasp the concepts at all, even the Pythagorean Theorem.

That's why I was meeting him before school. I had passed Algebra 2 with a solid 'A' back in Freshman year and was currently receiving an 'A' in AP Statistics. He couldn't fail yet another math class and let his GPA fall below a 3.2, otherwise his parents would confiscate his car. So, a few weeks ago, he had begged me to tutor him and, even though I feared that it would be awkward, I agreed. No one could say 'no' to Alex's puppy face. I'm weak for puppies, anyway.

I sat down at the table Alex had reserved for us and he truly did look like a dog that had been waiting eternity for his master. Like Argus. His thickly-rimmed glasses were fogging up from embarrassment and his droopy eyes looked everywhere in the room except at me. He was tall, but he ruined his posture by slouching all the time. His round lips were opened slightly and his whole face frowned, making him appear lost and helpless. Of course, he always looked like this. He had the kind of look most girls liked, I guess, because I was always receiving warnings and threats from girls who were jealous that I was the only person Alex ever spoke to.

A) It wasn't my fault that Alex wasn't a sociable creature.

B) It wasn't my fault that I was chosen to be the object of his affection

C) I shouldn't have to take any crap from people who think that "You is ugly" is an honest or even sensible threat.

"So, why are you late?" He asked as his bushy eyebrow rose, peeking out from the rim of his glasses. Alex was asking out of complete sincerity, but I couldn't help but grow aggravated after thinking about the debacle this morning.

I bushed a strand of curly dark hair out of my face and stuffed it inside of my hoodie. I wasn't always aware of it, but I messed with my hair when I was agitated. It went from touching my hair to looking for split ends to ruffling it and wearing hats all the time. If this mane could not be tamed, than I would rather hide it. "My mom. She…she never wakes up in time to get to work. I swear, I'm the only reason that woman still has a job."

"Can't you get her an alarm clock? O-or something?"

"An alarm clock can't beat being hung over."

"Oh, I see." Alex leaned over to look in his bag, cleverly evading my eyes. I knew that he couldn't say "I know how you feel" because, frankly, Alex lived in a big house with a single mom but a cute older brother and a life where he could be a child for as long as he wanted. He knew nothing about being an adult.

"Did you get me anything from Starbucks?" He asked, flipping through pages and pages of notes, trying to find his homework from the previous night.

"…H-huh? How did you know that I went to Starbucks?" I had thrown my cup away in a trash can on the way to the library.

"Your breath smells like Starbucks." He admitted, grinning cutely, which I supposed was a fail at looking impish.

I pretended to shiver and covered my mouth, giving him a hesitant look. "Ugh. Creepy."

He sputtered frantically, until he found the words, "It's not hard to tell when we're both only ten inches from each other's face."

I accepted that, even though I habitually checked my breath for the rest of the session.

Alex and I tried- and I mean really tried -for the next half-hour to get some work done. Unfortunately, every time I would say something, he would start with some old story from Sophomore year and I would be stuck between yelling at him in humiliation and laughing myself out of my chair. He had finished his homework, but it was the worst piece of last minute shit I had ever seen in my life.

As the second bell rang, we parted, waving goodbye to one another by blowing awkward kisses.

I sat down in AP Literature, hidden in the back of the room. My classmates shuffled in and, although some of them tried to greet me with polite smiles and compliments, I ignored them all. I stuffed my face into my copy of _Midsummer Night's Dream_. I was several acts ahead of most of my classmates for this assigned reading, but I absolutely hated this play. It was all about magic and faeries and spells and love.

Bull shit.

**Disclaimer: I do not own any characters from the Iron Fey series or Midsummer Night's Dream. Alex, Alex's family, Silvia, and Silvia's family are characters that we have created. **


	2. Chapter 2

****Disclaimer: I do not own any characters from the Iron Fey series or A Midsummer Night's Dream. Alex, Alex's family, Silvia, and Silvia's family are characters that we have created. ****

Chapter 2

After an hour of hearing my AP Government teacher preach about common American fallacies concerning the Electoral College, the bell finally rang for lunch. I put down my copy of_ A Midsummer Night's Dream, _nearly finished with the entire thing. I had wanted to finish it early so that I wouldn't have to deal with reading the monstrosity any more. All I had learned from reading this damn play was:

The course of true love never did run smooth. Well, that was basically the only line of the play that I liked.

Titania's a bitch.

That Goodfellow dude is a fuck-up.

The classroom was basically empty by the time I had gathered my purse and my lunch. Alex was waiting at the door, giving me a calm and gentle smile. We walked to lunch slowly as I debated whether or not to work on tomorrow's homework at lunch, which would include a stop at my locker. Alex sighed, called me a nerd, then grabbed my arm as we passed the hallway my locker was on.

We sat down at a lunch table near the back of the cafeteria, near the trash cans and by the boys' bathroom. It was the crappiest lunch table in the world, but at least we were able to sit by ourselves. And no one ever sat back here in the previous lunches, so the table was always clean. Some of Alex's groupies would occasionally stop by, but my glare of death would normally scare them away after five minutes.

"So, do you wanna stop by for dinner tonight?" Alex asked with a French fry half in his mouth. He liked to drizzle hot sauce over his fries because he knew that, that way, I would never steal one. I hated spicy things. "My mom's making fettuccine alfredo. She made up a new recipe and she wants to make sure it won't kill anybody. We're gonna be guinea pigs."

"Oh, delightful." I faked a British dialect, sounding like the most ridiculous douche in the world, but Alex laughed anyway. "What time?"

Alex swirled another French fry around his puddle of hot sauce before shoving it into his mouth. "Maybe 6:30-ish. My mom won't be home until about five, and I know that you're gonna have to deal with your mom when you get home."

Alex knew enough about my home life to understand that I required some time for myself. I normally had an hour to work on my homework and fool around until mom returned and wrecked everything, searching for a bottle that would make her forget about her terrible day at work. I normally spent the next hour making her dinner and ensuring that she actually ate it. I was used to not receiving any praise. It was habit, nonetheless.

I slunk back in my chair, remembering the indigestion from the last time I stopped by Alex's house to try one of his mother's experimental recipes. "No offense, man but I don't know if I have the stomach to try something as rich as alfredo. I might puke again."

"Hey, that was _one_ time!" He, like I, recalled very clearly the Chicken Stroganoff incident. Yeah. I'm pretty sure we both caught Salmonella.

I giggled at his desperation. He had that puppy-face again. I didn't even think he realized how effective that was. "Fine! Whatever! Just keep me close to a toilet."

He beamed and, once again, his glasses fogged up. When he noticed, he tore them off and began wiping them while I laughed at his awkwardness. I leaned forward, placing both of my elbows on the table and giving him a thoughtful look. "So, how are things at home anyway? Your mom's baking again, so I guess she's in a good mood."

He nodded a little too enthusiastically. "Yeah. She was mad for a while, you know, 'cause Ryan was out pantying-"

"Partying."

" Isn't that what I said?" He set his jaw, not willing to admit his Freudian slip. "He was _partying_ all the time and skipping his classes."

"And simultaneously pantying. Your brother is kind of a man-whore." I grinned mischievously. No one but Alex knew how much of a dirty mind I actually had.

His brother, Ryan, was a student at James Madison University. When he was accepted a couple years ago, he said that JMU was his number one choice because it had the largest population of women of all the schools that had admitted him. I heard from Alex that, even when Ryan was still in high school, he partied and snuck out all the time, always with a different girl. I was often amazed that he and Alex could be related, but be so completely different. Although, when it came to looks, they both were kinda cute.

Alex's mom owned a restaurant out in Virginia Beach. After she heard about Ryan's debauchery, she closed down the restaurant for about two weeks to settle everything with him and JMU. She was a fantastic chef, but sometimes a little too whimsical to handle. She would always ask me if I was making any more friends or if I had a boyfriend yet. I loved the lady, and I knew that she was trying to compensate for what my real mother wouldn't give me, but it was very unnecessary.

Alex placed his head on his intertwined fingers, seeming exhausted. "And now, mom's pissed because Ryan came home again with that girl who has all the tattoos-"

"And, you know, _all_ tattoos are symbols of the Devil." I said sarcastically, raising an eyebrow and watching as his face contorted.

"Well, I know it is- I mean, it's _not_. I mean, _they're_ not." He groaned, frustrated about how he could never get his words right. This kid was almost too awkward to function.

My stomach grumbled loudly as we sat in silence. He stared at me with wide eyes and I knew what he meant to ask. I nodded fervently, responding, _Yes, that was me. Now shut up. _He snickered and I slapped his forearm, feeling the blood rush to my face.

Suddenly, a tsunami poured onto Alex's shoulder, nearly forcing him onto the floor.

No, my bad. It was Aimee White's boobs.

"Howdy, darlin'!" She yelled into Alex's ear with the most fallacious country dialect I had ever heard. Her bleach blond hair was as long as a river, cascading over her shoulders and rumored F-cup breasts. Most of those rumors included a surgery, no matter how often she denied it. She was wearing enough eyeliner to confuse raccoons that she was one of them and wearing enough perfume that, even on the other side of the table, I nearly gagged. She was short in stature, but that worked to her advantage. Tall guys always seemed to date short girls.

Aimee was one of Alex's fan girls who visited us during lunch. In fact, she was the most persistent. And the most dangerous. She told me at the end of Junior year that, if I ever spoke to Alex again, she would spread all kinds of rumors about me on the Internet. I told her to go ahead, because I didn't have a Facebook or any of that shit. Then, she threatened to have her and all of her country-ass friends jump me if I ever spoke to Alex again. I flashed the Taser I kept in my purse and she shut up.

Aimee hadn't spoken to me since, but she made regular appearances at our table just for the purpose of stealing Alex's attention away from me. I was still superior, though. She annoyed the hell out of Alex. He had told me that several times. I knew that _she_ wouldn't be receiving an invitation to eat dinner with his family any time soon. Or ever.

Alex didn't give her a proper response, but nodded slightly in her direction, believing

that to be a sufficient "Hello." I sat stoically, not even acknowledging her presence.

"So, what're ya doin' later?" She asked in that irritating country drawl. I can stand regular country dialects, but hers sounded like it came from watching too many previews for _Beautiful Creatures_.

Alex stuttered, unsure where to look, since her boobs were kind of blocking her face from his direction. He decided to stare at the table, with eyes as big as her knockers. "Um, actually, m-my mom is making dinner, so I have to be home."

She pulled out the chair next to him her breasts jiggled as she harshly sat down. "Awww…that's too bad, sweet cheeks. Can't you get away for an hour er two~?" She cooed, slowly moving her hand up Alex's toned arm and onto his quivering shoulder.

Okay, this was pathetic. "Can't you _sense_ how uncomfortable you're making him?" I asked gruffly, finding myself extremely uncomfortable with the situation as well. Why couldn't she learn her place?

Like I had.

Her entire face suddenly changed. Her sly grin and sexy, droopy eyes were now like an angry lion, focused on my face and probably imagining a million ways to mutilate it. "Does it look like I'm talkin' ta yew, freakshow?" She snarled, showing me a few of her crooked teeth.

"Can you focus on anyone else but yourself?"

"Why don't you follow your own advice, you arrogant bitch?"

Our voices had risen to nearly shouting level, so we started to form an audience. People from nearby tables twisted around to see what random nobody Big-boobed Aimee was yelling at. I heard them mumbling about us and, suddenly, I lost all spirit. As I might have mentioned before, people didn't pay attention to me much, and I liked it that way.

I stood up from the table, trying my best to ignore the stares and the gossip of on-lookers. "I'm gonna go buy some Doritos." I grumbled, even though Alex was dramatically mouthing 'Save me.'

I swiftly turned around, disappointing those who had anticipated some hot chick fight. _Sorry I couldn't give you the sexy bikini mud fight you wanted, you horny assholes._ I heard Aimee give a victorious 'hmp' and, as much as I wanted to turn and warn her that this battle was not over, I didn't have the determination or the balls.

I walked through the narrow space between the cafeteria tables, avoiding everyone's eyes and relying on memory to find the snack table. Our cafeteria was small, even though our school population was over 2,000 kids. This meant that there were at least 500 students in each lunch and only enough room to fit about 550 of them. We were cramped as hell.

I heard jocks laughing about a crude sex joke, dorks talking about anime, delinquent kids saying things that were so linguistically incorrect that it was like a different language. I finally saw some kids from my AP Government class copying each other's homework last minute and began giggling to myself.

I didn't see or hear the guy in front of me until we already had begun our collision.

He was chatting innocently with his friend, carrying his lunch tray back from the lunch line. I, who had been too much of an ignoramus to look where I was going, barged right into his space. Startled, he dropped his lunch tray during our collision, spilling his lunch as well. He was a lot taller than me, so I began to fall-

And his tray of wheat spaghetti and fake-meat meatballs followed suit.

I landed on my knees on the floor and, not a second later, a mess of spaghetti and sauce splattered onto my head. I felt the gooey sauce seep into my hair and the spaghetti fell around my shoulders as if it _were _my hair. A meatball bounced from my head, onto my shoulder, then onto my shirt, sliding down it and creating a long brown stain. I heard dripping from my scalp down my back, and the first thing I thought was '_This shirt is completely ruined._' The lunch tray clattered as it landed on my right.

The disaster was followed by silence.

Then scornful laughter.

The whole cafeteria erupted in gasps of surprise and gasps for air. No one knew who I was, just that I looked like an idiot. I saw Alex in my peripheral vision, fighting Aimee to come to my side, no matter how hard she tried to keep him seated. The people at the table next to me were pointing and picking meatballs off the ground, then throwing them back at me. "She's already dirty anyway!" they mocked.

Although he tried to help, the guy I had bumped into actually made it worse. He bent down to face me. I was shocked and horrified, but tried my best not to show it. I broke into a cold sweat and my eyes were practically sealed open. The kid was pretty cute, but his face was twisted in guilt. "I'm so sorry!" He exclaimed in a harmonious voice." I didn't see you! I'm really sorry…" He paused, and among my shame and fear, I wondered why. "…what was your name again?"

Something broke inside of me.

I shut my eyes tightly and stood up without saying a word. I hated people staring at me. I _hated_ it. And now, it was coupled with complete public humiliation.

I hated this. I hated people. Their laughter. Why were they laughing?

Was no one coming to help me?

No one _ever_ came to help me.

I was _always_ the adult.

I rushed to the bathroom, past a crowd of people that were covering their mouths, trying to block the chuckles that dared to escape. The teachers flew to me, asking if I was hurt. I pushed all of them away. I didn't care if it was disrespectful or if I would get in trouble. I didn't care. I kept in the tears, knowing that they were signs of weakness. I couldn't show weakness. I didn't need for people to help me. I didn't need _people_.

I felt the sauce slide down my back again and I quivered at the constant reminder. I still felt the noodles in my hair, but I couldn't pick any of them out yet. There was no reason to make the janitor's job even more difficult.

I found peace and solitude in the girls' bathroom, which was smelly but quiet. The tears burned in my

eyes, but I wiped them away, refusing to let any of them fall. I bit my lip in silence, wondering how long it would take until I could stop thinking of their laughter. I still heard it from outside the bathroom walls, but I was so numb from the embarrassment that it was more like a buzz. There, but not there. Had it even happened? _What_ just happened?

I immediately wet a paper towel with cold water and ripped off my sweater so that I could dab it clean. The brown stain from the meatball went the entire length of the shirt, and there were several stains on the back of my shirt from where the sauce had dripped. I dabbed at it frantically. Desperately. The tears threatened to resurface, but I blocked them again with my palm.

They were still laughing at me, those damn idiots.

I hated them!

Why couldn't they all just grow up?!

I heard tentative steps from a person entering the bathroom. I lifted my head to find a short girl with wavy blond hair and cautious eyes. Her hands were crossed behind her, making her look innocent, but her back was hunched, as though she was afraid to look directly ahead. Afraid to look at me.

"Um…" She started, and even though her voice was cute, it pissed me off. "…Do you need any help cleaning that?" She offered, slowly reaching for the paper towels, resolving to assist me.

But, among my pile of emotions, I replied with anger. "I don't need any of your help! Get the fuck outta here!"

She jumped, startled by my hostile response, but politely left the bathroom, leaving me to my solitude and self-deprecation. Being an adult meant taking care of yourself. Doing things by yourself. I didn't need her help.

I didn't need anyone's help.


	3. Chapter 3

****Disclaimer: I do not own any characters from the Iron Fey series or Midsummer Night's Dream. Alex, Alex's family, Silvia, and Silvia's family are characters that we have created. ****

Chapter 3

After five minutes, the bell to end lunch had already rung, but I was still scrubbing the stain out of my sweater. It had basically been abolished, but I think I was scrubbing as cathartic release.

"Silvie?"

I heard Alex's voice from outside of the bathroom and, somewhere deep inside of me, a delicate voice rang out, "Y-yeah? What's up?"

He didn't say anything for a few painful moments, but then he choked, "I know it's a stupid question, but…are you okay?"

I almost wanted to smile, but my face wouldn't allow that. "I…I'm better. Scrubbing the fuck out of my sweater is kind of therapeutic."

"Do you…want to go to the nurse's office?"

"I'm not sick."

"Did you get it…you know…out of your hair?"

"Yeah. I washed it out in the sink." Which was a bitch, by the way. I ended up having to pick each piece out individually because the shape was so close to my hair, so sometimes I would pull on that instead of the noodles.

No one had entered the bathroom after that one girl. I felt dreadful for the way I had yelled at her, but my feelings of humiliation outweighed my guilt. The hallway outside was quiet, which meant that everyone was already on their way back to their third bell classes. I wondered if it was safe. If I could show my face just yet.

I wondered if anyone could look at my face and tell that I had been crying.

"Do you…want to come back to class?" Alex whispered.

The answer was no. I didn't want to face all of those people who had subjected me to possibly one of the worst public humiliations in world history, or at least teenage history. But I was a straight-A student. If I missed one note, one line, one helpful hint, I could kiss a good test grade goodbye. Granted, I would probably get a 110 on another assignment within a week and cancel the non-A grade out, but that wasn't the point.

Besides, my pride would not allow me to play truant before showing those assholes how mature I was. I wouldn't be affected by their scorn. I didn't need their approval.

I walked out of the bathroom with my shirt half-off, making Alex blush. Like, a lot. We walked back to third bell arm and arm. We were already late for class, but I was so glad that Alex stayed back for me that I couldn't express it in words. He really was the best friend I could ask for. He looked at the red spots under my eyes, but didn't say anything. He squeezed my arm, reassuring me.

There was only half an hour left of third bell until we switched for fourth bell. We entered the room late, received some grief from our teacher, and solemnly made our way to our seats, which were right beside each other. I heard some snickers, but I blocked them out as best as I could. They would only bother me if I let them.

Alex slid into his seat and caught sight of _A Midsummer Night's Dream_, still sitting on my desk. "Oh, I love that play."

I raised an eyebrow, accepting his attempt to lighten the mood. "Are you serious? To be honest, I would prefer Romeo and Juliet over this. And that's saying a lot." I wasn't really into love stories. I mean, believe it or not, but I've never had a boyfriend.

Did you laugh just then? I did.

Alex shrugged in response. Our teacher, Mrs. Roads, finally settled the stack of papers on her podium and proclaimed, "For the next twenty-five minutes, you will answer an AP Free Response Question regarding the Electoral College."

Everyone moaned, even Alex, as Mrs. Roads passed out the papers with the prompts. I was actually excited. It was another way for me to get my mind off the whole spaghetti incident. The Electoral College wasn't too hard to understand anyway, so I saw an A in my future. As long as I could keep my mind focused on the prompt and not my trauma.

Once she told us to begin, my pen shot onto the paper and from it, a thoughtful, beautiful essay erupted. I saw my fellow classmates with their hands on their foreheads, struggling to find words, but mine flowed as clear as a river. This was factual information. Logic, government, and solidarity came easy to me.

After about fifteen minutes of writing, I watched a small, crumpled piece of paper flutter onto my desk. I had finished my essay, so I picked up the paper curiously and peeked around. Alex was looking at me.

I figured that the piece of paper was trash, since I was sitting next to the trash can. I glared at Alex and mouthed, _Why are so lazy?_ I went to throw it into the bin, but Alex grunted and frantically grabbed my opposite wrist before I could. This had required him to lean over and put weight on one side of his desk, so all of his papers and books toppled to the floor, making a crash as loud as any car accident. Every student-and I mean _every_ student- looked up from their essays at my clumsy friend.

"Mr. Pierce? Oh, my God, what did you do?" Mrs. Roads asked anxiously. She was cool, but far from tender.

"U-um…" Alex stuttered as he blushed deep red. "There was a…bug…or something."

"It's true. There _was_ a bug." I defended him awkwardly, even though I had no idea what the hell was really going on.

Mrs. Road's rolled her eyes and instructed the class to return to their essays. A few of the girls sneered, staring at Alex's hand, still on my wrist. I shook him off and he diligently picked his items off the floor, looking emotionally scarred.

I sat around, debating between finishing that atrocity of a play and opening the paper Alex had thrown onto my desk. Was it a note?

Not thirty seconds later, another paper fell onto my desk. This one was neatly folded instead of crumpled. I opened it uncertainly, finally reading: Read the note, dummy!

Oh, so it _was_ a note!

I unfolded the crumpled note, confused why he hadn't just neatly folded this one in the first place. Alex was so weird. I read the contents: You know the dance Friday? Would you like to go with me?

The Winter Dance? The one famous for an amazing lack of supervision and more underage drinking than a Fraternity party? Yes, I _did_ know of that dance. I had heard girls gossiping about it, wondering which loser was going to ask them. Dances- well, social gatherings in general- weren't really my thing, so I avoided the topic like the plague.

But Alex was asking me to go with him? Since Sophomore year, he had always complained to me about the silliness of such things as dances. He never offered me a reason for his opinion, but I used to think that it was because _so_ many girls would ask him and he grew annoyed. He could never say no. Poor bastard. It didn't sound that_ bearable_, but if Alex wanted to go, I could humor him, right? Never leave a friend behind. Isn't that, like, a rule of…friendship or…something? Oh, whatever.

I fiercely scrawled 'Sure' onto the paper and shoved it at him. The whole dropping-notes-on-the-desk thing was irksome. I watched as he opened the note, hiding it from view, as if my answer withheld the meaning of life or the answer as to which movie would win the Oscar this year. His grin brightened the window-less room as he read my reply.

He started to whisper something, but the bell cut him off. The class whined as Mrs. Roads told them to pass up their complete or incomplete essays. She grimaced as she scanned through all of the unfinished sentences and erroneous arguments. You would think that AP students would know how to write decent essays. My classmates cheered up after they rejoined their social circles, shuffling happily out of the classroom. I packed up the last of my binders and papers, taking forever.

Alex began to speak again, but was interrupted, this time, by our teacher.

"Mr. Pierce, you were quite a distraction today." She murmured, picking up his essay and scanning it. "And you didn't finish your essay. How 'bout this? I'll give you five more minutes to finish and write you a pass to your next class. Hm?"

She turned to me and smiled politely. "You, Ms. Scott, were the first one done, so you don't need to hang around with your slow friend." She shooed me away. "Go, go! I won't write you a pass."

I nodded obediently. Before I left through the threshold, I told Alex:

"We'll talk about it at your house tonight."

Even though I had already turned away at that point, I could tell that he punched the air in glee. I rolled my eyes. He was such a dork.

But he was a miracle-worker at cheering me up.

**Sorry this chapter was so short! I promise we'll update with another one soon!**


	4. Chapter 4

****Disclaimer: I do not own any characters from the Iron Fey series or Midsummer Night's Dream. Alex, Alex's family, Silvia, and Silvia's family are characters that we have created. ****

Chapter 4

Handling my mom after work was easier than usual. I cooked her chicken chili and left as she was drifting off to sleep on the couch.

Lisa sputtered violently as I pulled into the driveway of 23 Avalon Court at 6:40. Late. Alex's house was a huge, Neo-French style home with an enormous, finely manicured and decorated lawn and a fountain in the center. There was a regal white archway above the wooden front door and a segment shaped like a princess's stone tower. It was two stories of pure architectural genius, infused with modern shades, creating basically my dream house. Can you understand why I would never pass up a chance to visit here?

After I walked up the stone steps, I rang the doorbell and waited patiently. A long, angular face that was mostly familiar, except for the new addition of five-o-clock shadow, greeted me.

"Oh, it's you." Ryan smirked, leaning lethargically against the doorway. "I didn't know there was an _angel delivery service_. I would have ordered _you_ a long time ago."

I rolled my eyes, running through the mental list of all the pick-up lines I knew that would have been 200 times better than…ugghh. "Ryan, I hope you realize, just as much as _I_ do, that that was _awful_."

"Feisty, feisty~." He replied flirtatiously, wagging his finger at me. "Maybe I should have said 'demon' instead of 'angel.'"

"Yeeeaaah. I don't think_ I'm_ the demon in this situation."

He eventually gave up, realizing that his jokes were heading nowhere. He turned his back to me and faced the thick central staircase with the red rug. "Alex!" He called, "Your girlfriend's here!"

I was so used to hearing that kind of ridiculous stuff from Ryan that it didn't even bother me anymore. I walked into the house and heard heavy footsteps speedily crashing down the staircase. I saw Alex's excited face peer over the railing.

"So, I've been upgraded to girlfriend, now?" I grinned at him playfully, keeping myself from chuckling as his glasses fogged up. I really shouldn't have found that as humorous as I did.

"Sh-shut up. Nice to see you, too." He hid his face and trudged down the massive hallway to the dining room, intending for me to follow him.

I took a quick curtsy, "Pleased to be here, young master." I said this softly. Alex hated it when I referred to his wealth like this.

Alex's mom was a chef who owned several restaurants and made a pretty good living for herself. Her ex-husband was an internet tycoon and a stock market success, so he made an even _better _living for himself. As far as I knew, they went through a pretty bad divorce three to four years ago, leaving Ms. Pierce with half of her ex-husband's money. That was enough to buy this miraculous house, put Ryan through school without needing loans, and give Alex anything he wanted. He was such a prince. He probably didn't see it that way, though. He probably missed his dad.

I wondered what that must have felt like. To miss a father.

The walls of the dining room were a dark gray, contrasting with the white carpet. An elegant chandelier with seemingly hundreds of candles hung from the ceiling in the center of the room. An elongated, mahogany dining table with an ornately decorated cloth running over it was perched under the chandelier. The table could seat eight, but there were only four white place mats set up around the stunning floral centerpiece. It was a compilation of burgundy red cymbidium orchids and white calla lilies, arranged in a smooth glass vase-

"Why, if it isn't my favorite little girl in the world!" Sang a melodious voice from the kitchen. I was faced with Alma Pierce, a strikingly beautiful woman with sky blue eyes, short, styled blond hair, and a slender body that even_ I_ would die for.

"Hey, Ms. Pierce." Even though the divorce had been…less than amicable, she didn't mind being called by her ex's last name still. She embraced me awkwardly, but I persevered until she was satisfied, even though skin-on-skin contact normally made me queasy. "Heard you made fettuccine tonight. I would die to have some." I peered at Alex from the corner of my eye and he chuckled.

She released me and clapped her hands together enthusiastically, "Well, I'm ecstatic that you're able to join us for dinner tonight, sweetheart! I think you deserve a break from cooking for yourself all the time!"

I smiled sardonically. She literally told me that same line every time I ate with them. Maybe she rehearsed it in the mirror, along with her poses for the modeling career that she probably kept on the side of her 'chef' cover-up. She was right, though. Even though I had the adult role in my household, it was beneficial to have a break once in a while.

But I would never say that out loud.

"Anyway, Charles should be coming out with the food any second. He's just placing it in a serving dish." She plopped herself into the seat next to Ryan. Alex sat across from his brother and I sat at the head of the table, in front of the huge window.

Charles was Alex's family's part-time butler. He was a regular employee at Alma's restaurant, but he apparently needed some extra cash, even though Alma was very generous with salaries. He helped out with chores on weekdays, between the hours of four and eleven. He got along well enough with the family that it wasn't weird. He kept to himself, so no one knew that much about him or his family, but he was nice enough.

Charles pushed a tray of plates from the open kitchen into the dining room. Wordlessly, the older man placed a china plate in front of each of us and excused himself from the room with a gracious bow. I bowed back, never really knowing how to properly answer, and hid my possible etiquette faux-pas by immediately turning to the plate and grabbing my fork.

The plate of food in front of me was…okay, honestly? It looked like an alien life form with clumpy white sauce and the scent of curdling cheese. I_ literally_ gagged. How could such a high-class chef be so horrible at preparing pasta sauce? She was great at everything else! I would never understand this woman.

"I spent almost two hours preparing dinner! I burned myself and everything!" Alma stated proudly as she swirled her fork around in the poisonous pasta disaster. "If you guys like it, I'll add it to the menu at the restaurant."

I avoided saying anything, fearing that, if I hurt her feelings by telling her how unnatural the dish looked, she might _actually_ cry. And when she cried, it felt like the all of the sunshine, smiles, and rainbows in the world would suddenly turn to guilt, empathy, and dramatic reality show stars.

Alex nudged my left arm, raising a forkful of the ghastly dish. "Cheers?"

I sighed miserably and replied, "What the hell." We clanged forks together and shoved the pasta into our mouths.

I had expected the worst…and I got what I had expected. I felt my face warp into some unnatural, painful grimace. I clambered for my napkin, not wanted to be rude, but feeling the appalling taste spread throughout my whole mouth, throat, and stomach. Alex and I spat the food into our napkins, gagging to ensure that every bit of it was expelled.

Alma's hand flew to her mouth, "Oh, dear. Was it really as bad as the Stroganoff?"

"Worse…" I slurred through my coughing.

Alex was as green as the pasta sauce. "I second that."

Ryan started laughing so hard at our near-food poisoning that he had to grasp the table to settle himself. This mess didn't even bother Alma. She simply admitted defeat, "I'll have to try it again."

Everyone pushed away their plates after the incident, having lost their appetites. _I should have eaten with mom_, I thought regretfully.

Charles mopped up the clutter at the table while Alma, Alex, Ryan and I relocated to the living room to chat. Ryan only stayed for a few minutes before he had to leave to meet up with that tattooed girl. Most likely at a party or something. Alma was hesitant to let him leave, but they had probably formed some kind of agreement about his partying problem.

The living room had almost the same color scheme, with another beautiful floral arrangement on the glass coffee table, this one with red and white tulips, and Gothic red couches. Famous paintings adorned the wall, like a recreation of Théodore Géricault's _The Raft of the Medusa_, Diego Velasquez's _Las Meninas_, and, for some strange reason, Hieronymus Bosch's _Garden of Earthly Delights_. A similar chandelier to the one in the dining room hung in the center of the living room, between the seating area and the black Yamaha piano near the window.

Alma did most, if not all, of the talking. She summed up the events at the restaurant from the past couple of weeks. Business was going well, there was a problem with the air conditioning, customers were hitting on her, blah blah blah…

I cringed as she started bringing up questions about me. "So, Silvia, have you made any new friends lately?"

Was that a rhetorical question? Anybody could look at me and know the answer, right? I considered asking, '_Can your number of friends actually go into the negatives?_'

I didn't say anything, but pursed my lips uneasily as memories resurfaced of this afternoon. She noticed my face and groaned. "What happened this time?" She pushed some of her gorgeous blond hair out of her face, making me feel even more insecure. She and Alex stared at me with worry and anxiety. My noiselessness and petrified eyes probably made me look like an effigy about to be burned at the stake. _Fuck off, Alex! You know I hate to be stared at and you know what this is about!_

I avoided Alma's eyes because I knew that her look of pure consideration would make me spill my guts. But I couldn't.

1. Because I didn't even want to think about it, let alone talk about it.

2. Even though I loved Ms. Pierce, I didn't want to give her another reason to baby me and create some new recipe for flourless chocolate cake to make me feel better. My pride and my _stomach _couldn't handle that.

"It's really nothing, Ms. Pierce. I just think the pasta isn't agreeing with me." I clutched my stomach, looking like I was faking period cramps instead of indigestion.

She knew I was lying. It was totally fucking obvious. I never said that I was good at acting. But she knew that, no matter how harshly she pressed for more, I wouldn't give her anything else. She had accepted that about me just as much as Alex had. She shook her head, as though that alone would clear the awkward conversation from her memory. "Anything else interesting happen?" She asked with regained vigor.

"Actually," Alex chimed in, frantic to smoothly integrate this new topic into the conversation. "There's a winter dance this Friday…"

Alma smiled and placed her elbows on her knees, leaning closer. "Do you guys have any plans? You two haven't gone to a high school dance before, right?"

"Silvie and I are going to the dance together." He stated, but the way he sad it was…weird somehow.

"Oh, really?" Alma crossed her arms, giving a suggestive wiggle of her eyebrows. "Do I need to give you kids a talk about drugs and drinking and sex—"

"We'll be fine, mom!" Alex grumbled, jaw set, but severely less imitating because of his cherry red cheeks.

Alma tapped a finger on her forearm and said with a teasing sneer, "As a date?"

God, I always had to deal with these kinds of assumptions. I started to answer, "N—"

But Alex squeezing my hand, causing me to stop and look to him. "Yes. As a date."

He must have been joking. I actually started laughing because I was so sure that he was joking. But his face was puffy and red, as though he were holding his breath in anticipation. His response also came out stern and clear, not in a stammer or murmur like usual. His face showed intent, but I was paralyzed. Why had the mood grown so serious?

With my eyebrows furrowed, I turned to Alex for an explanation. "R-really?" That was all I was able to choke out, but I had a myriad of other thoughts swirling through my head. I mean, Alex was cute and all, but…he couldn't have been serious, right? Not with me, right? Not when he had Aimee and all those other big-booged barbies at his beck and call…right?

He nodded unwaveringly and my heart fluttered for the first time in my life. Except in case of the guy with the Scooby-doo fruit snacks.

From the couch, I felt anger radiating off Alma's body, as though something we had done had shocked her. Had enraged her. Her face stayed stoic, but I saw the creases forming in her forehead and her fists clenching. I was extremely confused and, for a moment, I considered asking her what I had done, but the murderous aura disappeared as quickly as it had come.

What _was_ that?

"Well, that's nice!" She cooed, sounding like her usual self. She stood up from the couch and brushed herself off, intending to excuse herself. "Silvia, sweetie, it's been wonderful having you and, I don't want to be rude, but do you mind going home? Alex and I had plans for tonight. Please come again soon, though, okay?"

Her smile, although it was wide, did not seem genuine. I felt the tension rise in the room and an unnerving vibe swarmed around all of us. I stood up stiffly, suddenly inclined to leave. I wasn't comfortable in situations that I didn't understand. "A-alright. Thank you for having me, Ms. Pierce." I gave one last wavering glance at Alex. "See you tomorrow?"

He nodded and slowly mumbled, "Uhh…yeah." He didn't even look at me. His eyes were stuck open and his face was pale, looking like he was scared enough to shit himself.

Both he and his mother simultaneously stood up, then rigidly headed back toward the kitchen without sparing another glimpse in my direction.

Peculiar.

I practically jogged out of the house, not daring to look in their direction. Something strange was going on, but I couldn't ask them directly. It felt taboo.

I shut the front door behind me, but I didn't head straight back to my car. Maybe I didn't have a good sense of creepy and not creepy from my years and years of never having friends, but I decided to take a peek at their conversation from outside of the house. I checked my surroundings to ensure no one was watching me, then I pounced.

I took a quick left onto the lawn and tip-toed until I was standing in front of the big window that saw into the dining room. I knelt down, not wanting to be caught and scolded. I peered over the edge and saw Alma and Alex come into view, stomping in from the kitchen. They both looked angry, and Alma stabbed a finger into Alex's chest.

The noise was muffled as I tried my best to listen through the window, but I could make out some syntax.

"What do you think you're doing?"

"I'm just trying to be amicable."

"I've told you a million times before: you can't get too close to her."

_Close to whom? Close to me?_

"Alma," _Did Alex just call his mother by her first name?_ "I'm not (fanging all pang exponentially cantankerous)." I was sure that he said something completely different, but he was mumbling, so it was difficult to make out through the glass.

Alma paused. "You have to (porn?) me before you (pie nougat) closer to her." So, I'm _pretty_ sure that that was "warn" and not "porn," but that _is_ what I heard.

I couldn't see those two, but I could tell that Alex sighed, giving in. "Fine. I'll be more careful."

Be more careful of what? They were obviously talking about me. What had I done?

I ran back to my car, not sure if their conversation was absolutely over, but also not wanting to hear any more. What was wrong with me, sneaking around and peeking on my friend like that?

I had nearly made it to my car when I saw something fast and silver flash across the garden. I raised my head for a moment, intending to investigate that too, but my mind was already jumbled. Let's chalk it up to being a bunny on caffeine. Whatever. I didn't need any more complications. The Pierces' behavior was already puzzling me to no end.

On the drive home, I blasted the radio as loud as I could. I didn't care what Macklemore could buy with the twenty dollars in his pocket, but I wanted to drown out my mixed thoughts as quickly as possible.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

I never knew how difficult it was to pick out an outfit for a dance. Of course, I knew that a dress was necessary, but it seemed that my wardrobe was severely lacking. Grumbling, I closed the closet door and decided to go into my mother's room to see if she had something I could wear. I shuffled through her closet until I found a light blue cocktail dress. It didn't have any flare and the color was slowly fading, but I liked it anyway. I mean, it was better than wearing jeans and a t-shirt.

Fortunately, the dress fit like a glove. I looked in the mirror and twirled around in a circle. I couldn't help but grin. I felt like a girl in some of the fairytales my mom used to read to me, where the girl gets an insane makeover from a fairy godmother, and she goes to the ball and-

"Stop daydreaming." I scolded myself, and I turned away from the mirror. There are no such things as fairytales. _Dumbass._

The next order of business was the rat's nest on the top of my head. There weren't a lot of things I could do with my curly hair, except either leave it up or leave it down. After half an hour of staring angrily and contemptuously at it, I grabbed my favorite gray beanie and pulled it over my hair, stuffing in some of the ringlets that hung off the side. It wasn't fancy or anything, but it kept the hair out of my face. And it was more practical than spending hours to attempt to _tame the mane_.

I marched downstairs as fast as I could in my mother's light blue heels. As much as had I protested, my mom had refused to let me wear my favorite black leather flats. These heels were the only shoes that matched my dress and were small enough to fit me. Unfortunately, they hurt like bitch. I stumbled down the last few steps and landed harshly, with my arms outstretched to balance myself. I stalked slowly over to the kitchen table, my ankles already burning and my hand on my breast, covering the dress' low neckline.

My mom was sitting at the kitchen table, fork in one hand, Bud Light in the other. Her greasy brown hair hung in her face, some of it sticking up through her messy bun. Her cheekbones were visible through ghostly translucent skin. Her eyes grew wide as she saw me crash in, but she gave me no words of praise. She had said that she would take pictures of me, but there was no camera. She had forgotten.

We stared at each other for a few seconds. I was waiting for her to speak –to say anything— and she was probably racking her brain for a nice way to tell me that my beanie looked terrible. She eventually looked back to her dinner, a mess of fried rice and chicken nuggets that she had heated up in the microwave while I was getting dressed. She looked despondently at her meal, as though it was a TV showing the saddest love-story ever. She wasn't focused on me, but on the rice and the beer.

_How many has she had?_

"You're really going to this dance tonight?" She mumbled into her food.

"Yeah." I answered quickly, wondering how fast Alex could get his skinny butt over here. I would rather have an awkward car ride with him than sit stiffly, praying that my mom would stay silent. "Alex asked me, so I couldn't say 'no.'"

"So, you like him now?"

"No. He's a friend." I responded a bit too roughly. I pretended to shuffle around my black tote bag so that I didn't have to look into her eyes.

She swirled her fork around her rice and repetitively poked the same chicken nugget. She looked like the most depressed child on this side of the Prime Meridian. "What time is he taking you home?"

I shrugged, "I'm not sure. Probably not too late." I wanted this dance to end with the least amount of _pain _as possible, but I also wanted to stay away from my mother by any means necessary.

I started to leave, deciding to wait for Alex outside, but once my leather jacket and black tote bag were secured on my shoulders, she spoke up.

"I had another dream about your father." She lifted a forkful of rice to her mouth, but it all fell because her hands were shaking so much. I wasn't sure if her trembling was from the memory or the alcohol. "He kept ranting about that magical place. About how we were going to be rich when he told the government."

"Well, we both know how crazy he became." I stated bluntly. "Dad's in the hospital now. He's fine. Don't worry. We did everything we could—"

"No!" My mom stood up abruptly, spilling her sticky brown beer all over the kitchen island. "Maybe he was _right_, Silvia! Maybe it _does_ exist! Maybe he _isn't_ crazy!" My mom's face grew dark and, before I knew it, she was sobbing pathetically and dramatically into her hands. I heard her mumble through her cries, "It's all my fault…my fault."

I stood still, conflicted over whether I should comfort her or wait until she was sober to talk about her dreams. I hated talking about my father. Even though I had lived for five years with my alcoholic mother being my only family, I was glad he was gone.

I knew that my mom was sensitive about my father, especially when I alluded to his dementia, but it couldn't be helped. I knew that it wouldn't be. When dad had gotten so bad that we had to send him away, mom turned to alcohol instead of comforting her traumatized pre-teen daughter. The second that she accepted his mental instability was the second that she would have no more problems to drink away. It wouldn't be helped.

Although I hated that man for what he did to my mother, his insane stories actually made me stronger. Mentally, at least.

I had learned that the things he used to mumble about, like faeries, kelpies, trolls, cait siths, fey,

And the 'Nevernever,'

Didn't exist.

"Mom," My voice cracked, but I forced myself to continue. "You're drunk. If you want to talk to me about it, we'll do it when you're sober."

Ouch. That was harsh. _Did I really just saying that to a crying, Middle-aged woman?_

She was emotional under the influence, so she wasn't going to calmly accept my promise. She suddenly raised her head from her hands and wiped at her narrowed eyes with her shaking palms. She glared at me as best as she could, even though I assumed her vision was blurred from the alcohol, and started panting with fury.

"You don't care! You _know_ that you don't care!" She spat, staring daggers at me. I jumped, shocked by her outcry. She was normally emotional when drunk, but never this aggressive. "Your dad's gone and you're gonna graduate! You can't _wait_ to get out of this house and not care about me anymore!"

"The only thing that should surprise us is that there are still some things that can surprise us." Francois de La Rochefoucauld spoke my thoughts. I tried not to act surprised by the excessive bitch fit, but it really was more violent than usual. I thought that I had designed the perfect way to deal with her inebriated self, but this was getting out of hand.

Her hands were gripping the kitchen island so tightly that I feared she would crack the granite. Her face was red and she was panting so hard that I could feel her breath from several feet away. I almost thought that her ears would start spouting steam and her veins would burst out of her face some old cartoon character.

"Mom," I used a soothing voice, hoping that this last option would calm her down. Like a mother consoling her child. "We can talk about this later—"

"_No_! We'll talk about it _now_!"

I was such a perfect child that my mother never yelled at me. Sure, she didn't really care enough to yell, but she still never did. I was eighteen years old, an adult who could live by herself, but I bothered to get her to work and make her food every day. I was the salutatorian. She had no reason to scold me. So, when she released that harsh, demanding tone, I could only smirk. She had no right.

I examined her with stern eyes, deciding that my gentle approach wasn't working. I read on the electronic clock that it was 6:48. Alex would be here in about two minutes. I had no time to have a full-on battle with her. "Look, I have somewhere to be in a few minutes. I don't have _time_ to listen to your trivial _bull shit_. You're drunk. There's no point." My voice grew louder and louder and my tone drifted to a darker level, sounding almost deadly. I took a step toward her. Then another. Like a predator preparing to give the final blow. "As the _adult _of the household, I have to take care of you, but my social life shouldn't have to suffer."

What social life? My having no friends was not her fault, but it was a good jab into her side. If she would even recognize it.

"_You're_ the adult?!" Her voice cracked as she took a step back from my advancing form. Her pale brown eyes were red, like they were literally on fire.

"_Yes_. I _am_." I clenched my fists and kept my eyes unwaveringly on hers. "I make you _breakfast_. I _wake you up _to get you to work in the morning. I make you _dinner_. I do the_ laundry_. I do_ all_ of our shopping. I _balance_ your _fucking_ checkbook!" I tried to steady myself, but there was nothing to hold onto. I could see nothing but her.

"You know how _frustrating_ it is?! Having to _parent you_ all the time?!" I continued, feeling angry tears prick at my eyes. The closer I got to her, the more pungent the smell of nervous sweat and alcohol became. "Do you know how much_ stress _that is?! No wonder I don't have any friends!" Once again, not having friends was completely of my own volition, but that was a different subject. That didn't matter to me. At this point, every sound that came out of my mouth was word vomit meant only to hurt her. "So, you're right! I can't _wait_ until I'm out of this house and I don't have to worry about _you_ constantly!

"You never say 'thanks' for what I do. You just expect it. Next year, when I'm at college, you're going to miss me _so_ much! You can't do _anything_ for yourself. I promise that I'm _not_ going to come back on vacations to take care of you! The second I leave through that threshold with a bag in my hand, I am _not _coming back!"

We were both breathing heavily, unsure of what poisonous words would spill out of our mouths if we tried to speak.

I had hurt her. I knew that I had. I hoped that I had. She deserved to hear what I had been thinking about her for five years. She was due to hear it. After losing a father, it was her responsibility to become an even better parent for my sake.

She had failed me.

For some sort of miraculous coincidence, I heard Alex's car pull up only a few moments after this intense stare-down. I could have heard his car from a block away.

It was a sleek, black 2011 BMW sedan that his mother had bought for him when he got his license. The starting of the ignition sounded like the purring of a kitten. The engine sounded like a soft roar, whether it was moving at 25 or 75 miles an hour. The inside consisted of perfect, spotless leather seats and a touchscreen dashboard that even Alex hadn't figured out how to operate yet. It was the most beautiful, high-tech car I had ever seen in my life.

No wonder all of those girls at school liked him. A cute guy with a hot-ass car? If only he were less awkward.

I heard the humming of his engine as he pulled into my driveway and my heart skipped a beat. Frantic to leave, I picked up my tote bag and hid my face with my gray beanie. I didn't want to meet mom's eyes as I ran out the front door and slammed it behind me.

It was pouring outside. It was dark, but I could see the water dripping off the bushes and down the brick sides of my house. I could hear streams of it clashing with the gutters. I saw huge puddles on the road and enjoyed the familiar scent of new rain. Alex's headlights were bright against my white garage door and his windshield wipers were on maximum speed.

I stood still, letting myself get drenched, as I strung together the memories of what had just happened. I saw Alex motioning for me to join him in the car and I walked numbly towards him.

I had never even heard the rain.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

I pulled open the car door with a huff. Alex's anticipating smile regressed into a concerned frown at my stunning entrance. "Is everything okay?" He asked, but I could barely hear him through the roaring in my ears. Whether it was from anger or the rain; I didn't know.

"I'm fine. Just a little tired. And agitated. That's all." I uncharacteristically talked a lot when I was mad, so if he knew anything about me, he would know not question any further. Just in case, I gave him the ugliest "reassuring" smile in the world. "Seriously, I'm fine. Can you just step on it? It might be good to get to dance before I change my mind about the entire thing."

Alex nervously rushed to arrange everything in his car then put it into drive. I wasn't sure how serious he was about wanting to be my date. Did that mean that he wanted to date me? Or did he just not want to go alone? Why was this dance so importance that he finally decided to ask me?

And why would he go through so much trouble to bring me to a dance when it obviously infuriated his mother?

He was complicated, but probably not _half _as weird as I was.

I mean, my father believed in _faeries_.

We drove in silence for a few moments, both of us lost in our own thoughts. When we were at the stoplight right before the highway, he said, "Oh," and lunged backward, reaching into the backseat. He threw a bulky blue hoodie, with a black zipper and the smell of cologne, onto my lap.

"What's this for?" I asked, my eyebrows nearly touching my hairline.

"Um…well, you looked uncomfortable 'cause you're _all wet_…I mean—I don't mean—" He stopped trying at that point, and turned his attention to the road. I let out a giggle, even though I had been angry enough only a moment ago to tear a wooden beam out of a wall.

"Don't worry. I get it. Thanks." The car was small and I refused to remove my seatbelt, so I struggled to pull the jacket over my shoulders. It would have been fairly hilarious to watch, I think. By the time I was done, we had already reached our exit off the highway.

I relaxed in my passenger seat and shoved more loose hairs into my gray beanie. I watched the rain splatter on the windshield. I watched it cascade down the window in crooked, straight, and broken lines.

I thought of my mother.

Was she still standing in the kitchen, fuming at my words? She had probably gotten a new bottle of beer and was busy drinking herself into a coma. Maybe she was so drunk that she had already forgotten about our fight. Or maybe she was _going_ to become that drunk later tonight.

But I didn't want her to forget. As awful as they had sounded, those were my true thoughts, and I was happy that she had heard them. Call me cruel or cold or dark-hearted or whatever, but I wouldn't take those words back. At least, not just yet.

I pushed aside those thoughts, knowing that they would only make me perspire and want to punch something.

This dance we were attending wasn't as popular as Prom, but it was a close second. At our school, the Juniors weren't allowed to attend the Prom, but they also did not have a Ring Dance. This Winter Dance was supposed to make up for the lack of fun that everyone had in Junior year. It was also often partnered with a Valentine's Day dance, but I heard that the decorations for that kind of dance were_ sickeningly _adorable.

I peeked at Alex, who was almost _too_ intent on driving. He was dressed to the nines, rented tux and all, and had traded out his bulky glasses for contacts that he probably wore once a year. A flower stuck out of his pocket and I actually smiled when I recognized it.

"Is that a Rhodora?" I pointed to the dainty purple flower sticking out from his chest. It wasn't a very traditional flower, which was why I found his choice so interesting.

Alex flushed, "Um, yeah…The other day, I saw you reading a poem about them by Emerson…so, I got one." He shrugged, very noncommittally.

I smirked, holding off a blush myself. "I didn't know you were so observant. But yeah. Rhodora's are one of my favorite flowers." I kind of had an obsession with flowers. I could name a lot of them just by looking; some of them, I could name by their binomial nomenclature. Since I only had one friend, and that was only for two and a half years of my life, I had to keep myself occupied with something other than studying and cooking.

"By the way…" Alex muttered as he pulled into an empty space in the packed parking lot. Well, actually, he had to pull in and out several times before he was parallel with the lines. "You look really pretty tonight, Silvie. Even with the beanie." He chuckled and, even though I knew that he was just saying this as a formality, I laughed, too.

I prepared to open my door, but he threw a hand in front of my chest, signaling for me to stop. He jogged over to the passenger's side of the car and opened the door for me, trying to imitate the experience of a "real date." Even though he was getting drenched by the rain, he refused to retrieve the jacket when I offered it. We raced toward the gym entrance. I stumbled as fast as I could in my heels while he kept fixing the tie that he obviously didn't know how to tie himself.

"Hey, slow down!" I shouted at him, as he was several yards ahead of me. "Remember: everything you do, I do in _heels_!"

I caught up to him and took a rest while leaning on his shoulders. Damn these heels. My feet were screaming obscenities. He led me by the arm until we were under the overhang in front of the gym. I stuck my finger under the straps of my heels, trying to twist them around until they were more comfortable. Alex laughed at me as I huffed before pitifully giving up.

I heard music booming from the other side of the doors, and I grimaced in unwilling anticipation. Alex opened the door for me politely and, as I entered the gym, I was greeted by a gust of warm air. I noticed an enormous sign that read, "Welcome to the Winter Dance" in bright blue, purple, and gray letters, hung between two beams high above our heads. How cliché.

Above the gym floor, there were large blue and silver ribbons hanging from the rafters, hiding the balls and whatnot that had gotten stuck up there during years of PE classes. Posh, beaded purple lanterns that belonged in a high-class condo adorned the ceiling. Although they were fantastic, they only gave off enough light to see the face of a person about ten feet away. The DJ stand was near the back wall, near the smaller bleachers where the opposing team would sit during our school's basketball games. A few tables were set up closer to the gym entrance, each of which was covered by a white table cloth, with small purple lanterns placed in the center.

The entire gym floor was utilized as a dance floor, which reminded of a mosh pit at a concert. Or a herd of lions in a zoo, fighting over a slab of meat that was thrown into their exhibit. There had to be several hundred students, all dressed to impress, intermingling on the dance floor. Many of them loitered around the edges, gossiping and talking and laughing. The people actually dancing made up the majority, but due to the graphic nature of their dances, I preferred not to watch them too attentively.

"This…actually looks kinda fun!" Alex admitted, staring around as though he were a child visiting Disneyworld for the first time.

I raised an eyebrow. "I take back my 'observant' compliment." I teased as I watched him bite his lip, probably feeling self-conscious. He was so predictable. I punched his arm, letting him know that I was joking.

I glanced around, wanting to find something to do. Quickly. Instead of observing the entire population of dancers, I narrowed my vision to couples. I saw "grinding" and "twerking" for the first time outside of YouTube videos. Instead of dancing a traditional three-step waltz, they were forming trains, back to front, of people rubbing up and down one another. I grimaced as Alex and I stood against the wall, wanting to do anything but _that_.

In fewer than five minutes, a familiar pair of breasts bombarded Alex. "Howdy, darlin'! Didn't expect ta see you here!" Aimee smiled cheerfully at him, looking like she belonged on the red carpet. Her revealing, studded orange dress was gaudy, ostentatious, and probably extremely too expensive to have bought for a high school dance. She had applied enough spray tan and eye makeup to look like a bronzed raccoon and, in the purple light, her bright makeup looked even worse. Her wavy blonde hair was messy and full of sweat from all of the dirty dancing.

She turned to me, giving me an expression somewhere between a smirk and a scowl. "Or you."

"Likewise." I grumbled back as I suddenly found myself leaning closer to Alex, acting as his guard dog. He was stoic like a rock and he shut his mouth tight; this was his normal reaction when girls flirted with him.

"Well, don't you look cute?" Aimee gave me a once over, raising her eyebrow at my vintage blue dress and gray beanie. "I never would've thought 'a _that_ combination."

I didn't care if she flung insults at me for the next hour, as long as she left Alex and me alone afterward. Sure, my beanie was unconventional and my knees were shaking because of these damn heels, but at least I didn't break the bank to buy a dress that wouldn't impress the guy I liked anyway.

I'm sorry. I normally was not so defensive and hateful, but this girl had a way of bringing out my bitchy, petty side.

"I cleaned up _real good_ for this here shindig, don't ya think?" I crooned, doing a poor portrayal of a country dialect in order to mock her.

Although she was dim, she caught on to my taunting. "I'm glad. Did ya finally get the smell of _meat sauce_ outt'a your hair?"

I gripped the loose fabric of my dress. I wouldn't let her allusion to the catastrophe a few days ago throw me off. If she wanted to intimidate me in front of Alex, I would not step down. I gave her a sarcastic sneer instead of the hideous frown I was holding back. Somehow, I gathered up the nerve to say, "Yes, actually. Did you wash the smell of _balls_ out of your mouth?"

I know. Stupid and gutsy, right? I felt Alex's sharp intake of breath and I knew that he was just as surprised as I was that I had actually said that.

Aimee didn't even acknowledge my record-book-worthy retort. She ignored me and averted her gaze toward Alex. She reached a slow, manicured hand up to his chest, as though she was trying to seduce him with her fingers and that irresistible 'looking up at him like a lost puppy' thing. She was entirely too close to him, and I could see Alex inching away, shaking like a leaf. She followed after him, moving her hand over his blue striped tie and slightly into the flap on his tux. "You really clean up _good_, sweetie. You look tapper."

"Dapper." I corrected, although I was surprised that she almost used the word properly.

She was tired of listening to me, "Say, don't ya wanna go dancin' with me? I just came out here ta take my heels off." She made a spectacle of exposing her legs and breasts as she knelt down to slowly peel off her six-inch silver heels. Alex turned away, probably hoping that, if he didn't see her, she wasn't there. I stood with my arms crossed and imagined chopping all of that shiny blonde hair off of her head.

Couldn't this girl tell from my clenched fists and Alex's beading sweat that we wanted her to leave?

She tore off her heels and threw them to some random corner of the floor. I hoped that someone would steal them. She suddenly leaned closer to Alex, bringing her hand in front of his mouth. "I mean, wouldn't ya rather dance with _me_ than _that_?" She pretended as if she was whispering, but we both knew that I had heard her. Especially since she had to shout just to be heard over the Will. song that was playing.

Alex stopped shivering and stared at her honestly, as if he was really focused on what she was saying. His face was cold, but his eyes were still and concentrated; on what, I was unsure. Did he hate her because she had insulted me or was he actually _listening_ to her? I couldn't tell if he was looking at her or past her, but something had intrigued him. Maybe, after two years of being stalked by her, he finally realized that her boobs were full and bouncy enough to wreak havoc on the city of Tokyo. What do men like more than breasts, right?

Alex stared at her for several seconds and, eventually, Aimee's face grew pink.

I didn't want to watch this anymore.

I stormed off, cursing myself and my B sized breasts. My feet screamed in refusal, but I fought the pain. Aimee had been right about one thing. Why would Alex want to dance with me when he could grind all night with a girl who had wanted to get into his pants for two years?

As I marched away, he didn't even yell for me. I could feel Aimee's satisfied smile on my back.

I walked back outside, through the gym exit, and was greeted by the soothing sound of rain pattering on the ground. The exit led to a garden that the Botany Club had never quite finished. It surrounded the quad where students sometimes ate during lunch and was a popular spot for mini football games while students were skipping classes. The garden was flush with pink and yellow carnations, violets, and a rainbow of gerberas. There was a fountain of delicate, white anemones flowing over a statue of Venus and a bushel of red roses at her feet. A stream of elegant purple, orange, and yellow tulips led to a small pond. A family of lilies bred around the gentle pond and the foot-tall waterfall by which it was fed.

No one was here except for a few couples that had decided to leave a little early for some "alone time." Even though the weather had lightened a bit, it was still impossible to see beyond twenty feet and the trees were bending from the intense wind and pummeling rain. I took several small, hesitant steps across the stepping stones, making sure not to step into any puddles or onto any flowers. I grumpily sat on the intricately carved "marble" bench by Venus' feet. The seat was wet and now, so was my dress, but it didn't really bother me.

Rain was refreshing and peaceful. Cleansing and powerful. Thunder gave me the thrill of release and lightning was beautiful and relaxing. I loved terrible weather, and this storm provided the perfect environment for me to think.

I let my mind wander away from my drenched butt and it found its way to my mother. She didn't deserve my guilt. She was probably drinking away her problems by then, so I had to learn a way to forget as well. I wasn't the kind of person to be excessively fixated on something trivial like this for too long, unless it was some kind of logical fallacy. There was nothing fallacious about her alcoholism.

I missed the days when she was a normal mother, caring enough to encourage me to make friends and tender enough to tuck me in every night. Even though I was always cynical and boring, those days had seemed perfect to me.

My father had once been a regular parent, too. Of course, those days were so long ago that I could hardly remember them. I recalled his stories. His enthusiasm. How his laugh sounded like thunder and his snoring sounded like a landslide. The glint in his eye whenever someone mentioned science.

Unfortunately, those memories were now clouded by ones of his dementia. His insane theories. His obsession. How his laugh began to sound like a choking hyena's and how he stayed up all night instead of snoring. The darkness that had been growing in his eyes since I was very young.

I sunk into reminiscence and thought of the exact day five years ago.

The day that he finally snapped.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Five years ago, my father still lived with my mother and me. He was always very weird, but there was one specific day that decided our family's fate.

I was in the living room, reading _Grapes of Wrath_ for enjoyment, when dad came home early from work that day. He normally stayed at the institute until I was already in bed, asleep. He spent hours upon hours every day slaving over classified research. All I knew about his career was that he worked for the Board of Scientific Inquiry, a government agency devoted to inventing and perfecting technologies that could benefit humanity. I never bothered to question his research because, frankly, it wasn't my business.

But when he returned at 5 o'clock, both mom and I knew that something was wrong. My mother looked up from the burning pot of clam chowder, which was beginning to smell like the back room of a dirty New England dive. She greeted him enthusiastically from the kitchen, even though she was clearly confused. "Russell," She hugged him fondly, but he didn't respond physically. "You're home early! Did something happen at work?"

"Yes." He answered, as cold and monotonous as a zombie. Not like that fake, sprinting, shouting zombie shit from _Dawn of the Dead_. He ruffled his curly black hair and his light green eyes seemed darker than usual. It looked as if he hadn't shaved in a few days. His cheeks were sunken and pale because he had been eating less lately.

Mom pulled away and gazed at him doubtfully, "Something bad? No one is hurt or anything, right?" She nearly whispered, hoping that I couldn't hear her from my spot on the couch. In the meantime, I had put my book down, insisting upon hearing the rest of their conversation. I believed myself to be a miniature adult, with every right to hear every conversation that went on in my house.

My father paused before motioning for my mother to sit down next to me. She sat down quickly on the hard couch and grabbed my hand, bracing me and herself for what was to come. As my father paced back and forth, I grew impatient. Just as I was about to say something, he began his explanation with a gloomy voice.

"The Director wants me to take a…_vacation_ for a while. He claims that I've been working too hard and it's starting to affect me." He ruffled his shaggy hair again, this time more aggressively. He began to laugh, but it wasn't a normal chuckle. It was dark. It sent shivers up my fearless spine. "He's just angry that I discovered the_ impossible_! He wants me t-to leave so—so that_ he_ can take the credit for what _I_ found! But I won't let him!"

I glanced at mom, hoping that she could give me an answer as to what he was screaming about. I rarely understood my father, but this was getting ridiculous. My mother did not think as lightly of this situation as I did. Once I caught a glimpse of her face, her look of utter panic and dread shocked me.

"Wh—what do you mean by discovering the 'impossible?'" She whispered.

Dad bent down to our height and lowered his voice. "I know that I should have told you guys this a long time ago, but there's no helping that now. It's about time you heard."

It took him about an hour to explain his mysterious experiments and his 'impossible' discovery. Apparently, about eight years earlier, dad had been on an exploration to find some new sort of fungal species. This basidiomycete species only grew in the underground caves of Florida, so he was gone for a few weeks during this study. He couldn't clarify his purposes further because of the possibility for a breach in national security. Or something.

Dad claimed that, while traveling around in that labyrinth of caves, he came upon an entrance hidden behind the rocks. It led to a new world he had never seen before. He curiously stepped into this portal and was fascinated by what he had found. He said that it was beautiful, even _magical_.

In this realm, everything from trees to mountains changed constantly, as if they were alive. Flowers and clouds sparkled like spring water. There were colors that he hadn't even known existed. This world did not follow time like ours did. There was night and day, but it was like a completely different level of existence. He said that a person could spend years in that world and it could only feel like a couple of days.

Since then, he hadn't been able to find another entrance into that world, but he became obsessed with studying this new land.

We were intrigued by this world until dad mentioned the inhabitants.

"And faeries fly around freely and…and there are unicorns and gigantic goblins! There's every magical creature you can think of! Dragons, kelpies, trolls, pixies—I can't even_ list_ them all! Oh, baby, it's fantastic!" He grabbed my mother's hand with an elated, beaming smile. "You would_ love_ to see it! I've been trying to open up another portal. To find a way back in. But, when they found out that my individual research was what the funding was going into, they decided that…giving me leave should solve my 'problem.'"

"Well, hun…" My mom struggled for words to describe her feelings. Even though I seemed to have been excluded from this rant, I also had a difficult time believing this fairy tale. Dad spouted these kinds of things all the time. I had grown so immune to his stories that I just stopped believing in anything magical. Now, he was claiming that he found proof for all of this ridiculous tales and theories? Proof that he hadn't just been telling stories, but this mystical world was that he had devoted his time and work to for the past eight years actually _existed_?

Wait. It gets better.

"But I'm gonna find a way in." My father jumped from his knees and stood straight up, clenching his fists as though he were preparing for a fight. "I promised myself that I would find another way in. I _will_! I've spent eight years searching and experimenting and I'm _not _going to quit just because the Director doesn't _approve_ of work that won't make him a profit!" His eyes were red and bulging; he looked like he was about to explode.

Mom and I sat immobile, both thinking that, if we were to startle him, he would have surely snapped. My father was wound too tight with the stresses of family, work, and his personal obsession. We knew that, if his boss hadn't forcibly given him leave, his mind could have deteriorated completely.

My father panted and the smell of burning chowder grew more and more pungent. It seemed like we were the only people in the world. The house was caving in on me. My father looked like a different person. My parents grew farther away. Although I tried to maintain composure, I couldn't help but fret.

What was happening to my father?

"Hun," My mom began timidly, shakily finding her voice, "I think that the Director was right to give you leave. I think that your obsession with this 'world' is…unhealthy."

"It's not_ just_ a world!" He shouted, sounding like a whining, spoiled child. "It's another _state of being_! It's a universe! It's called the 'Nevernever!'"

_Who the hell thought of_ that _name?_

"I can't believe that even _my own family_ doesn't believe me!" My father spat as he grabbed a bushel of clumpy dark hair and tugged. Mom and I watched him as though he were the sociopathic criminal stating his raison d'être at the end of a dramatic crime show. "Out of everyone, I expected _you two_ to trust me!"

"Hun, it's _not_ that we don't trust you—"

"Do you think that I'm crazy, too? Like the Director does?! That's the phrase he used when he laid me off! _Crazy_!" My father roared with his limbs flailing like a bird stuck in quicksand.

I was too astonished with this superfluous display that I hadn't caught something mom had.

"L-laid you off?" She stuttered, slowly lifting herself off of the couch. The room was so tense and silent that I could hear the flapping of a red cardinal's wings outside of our window. I felt something change in my mother's eyes when she began her retort and, since then, they had never been quite the same. "What do you mean 'laid off?' You were seriously _fired_? You were fired because of this _damn_ Nevernever?! And you didn't tell us?!"

"I knew that you wouldn't understand!" My father argued, his face torn between aggravation and sheer agony.

I had no idea what was going on anymore. I didn't know what 'getting laid off' meant. Now that I did, I understood the severity of my father's obsession with the 'Nevernever' and the extent that all of us had to go through in order to help him.

"You didn't know that!" My mother shouted as she became level with my father and starting looming closer to him. "We would have felt a lot more inclined to believe you if you had been honest from the beginning! _You _didn't trust _us_! You let all of us down—the Director, your wife, your daughter—" She motioned to me, but I could only stare upward, looking clearly bemused and innocent.

Mom and dad argued for another half an hour before she slapped him with tears in her eyes. She stomped up the stairs while my dad slumped to the floor, noiselessly sobbing. I wanted to comfort him, but I didn't know how.

I turned off the stove and disposed of the clam chowder. The smell was beginning to make me sick. The rest of the night was fairly normal. I did my regular routine of dinner, homework, flower research, then thirty minutes of television before I drifted off to sleep.

Three days later, my mom called a local mental institution. She dropped my father off before I had woken up that morning. I never got to say goodbye, and I hadn't seen him since. No phone calls. No letters home written in his own blood or someone else's blood. No contact for _five years_. Mom would sometimes attempts to encourage me to visit him or at least send him a letter, but I wasn't willing to become vulnerable for someone who didn't care about me enough to contact us himself.

I wasn't willing to become vulnerable for such an embarrassment of a father.

I was eighteen years old. An adult woman. I didn't have to worry about my father, but he would occasionally pop up in my head and ruin my day.

I somehow cleared his image away, intent to not let it spoil my calming visit to the flower garden. I trailed a delicate hand along the milky smooth petal of a pink tulip. I was placated by the trickling sounds of the waterfall and the smell of fresh, damp fertilizer. I heard the happy and drunk giggling of dance-goers behind me, but I ignored them.

What was Alex doing? Was he still being fawned over by Aimee? Had he finally given in and agreed to dance with her? That concentrated stare didn't make him look uninterested. I didn't know what part of her he was ogling at, but he was obviously intrigued by something other than her mountainous breasts. A famous first in the history of man-kind.

I had to stop fretting about this. Alex was my breast—_best_ friend, not my property. Although I could make a list of insults about Aimee that was longer than her hair extensions, there was nothing that I necessarily _disliked _except her passionate longing for Alex. Why was I so against Alex dating other girls? I started defending him _before_ I realized that he hated being fawned over—

_Wait._ I interrupted my own thoughts, _'Alex dating other girls?' As if there's an _original_? What am I talking ab—_

Before I could finish my frantic mental monologue, I noticed something familiar scurry around the flower garden. At first, because of the thick rain, I thought that it was a rabbit munching on a patch of flowers. I took a few tentative steps toward it as it hid, crouched behind a bush, probably protecting itself from the downpour. I thought that it would have jumped away when my heel loudly clanged against the edge of the "marble" bench. It didn't flinch.

I tiptoed around a patch of violets with my arms awkwardly bent like a lion. I found the white ball and was surprised that, instead of white, it was actually gray. A type of gray that was shiny and dull at the same time. It glittered, even though the sun was not out to provide a reflective source. It was a creature, but instead of long ears, it had pointed, intelligent cat ears.

I stuck a hand out to reach for it; I wanted to see if I could touch it. Unfortunately, when my fingers were approximately a foot away, the creature bolted cross the garden, swerving through the flowers like a silver bullet train.

It was very familiar. I had seen the same creature at Alex's house, after I had listened to him and his mother participate in a very enigmatic conversation. The silver creature had scurried across Alex's yard so rapidly that I hadn't been able to identify it. As it disappeared behind the miniature waterfall, one thought flooded my mind: _I have to find Alex._

I fled the flower garden, bidding a fond farewell to my noiseless floral friends, and checked the spot inside the gym where Alex and I had been standing. Of course, he wasn't there anymore. People stared at me and my soaked gown, but I was too focused to listen to their oh-so-helpful and undeniably rude comments. Against my better judgment, I checked the dance floor, looking for tall dork grinding with a blonde Megan Fox. I exited without luck, even though I had gotten quite the work out and was touched in places where I would surely never be touched again.

I shoved open the gym door that led to the small commons, thinking that he might have stepped out for some fresh air without the possibility of soaking his rented suit. I was immediately traumatized by the couple in missionary position on the floor, practically eating each other. I would never understand teenage couples. The dirty commons outside a school dance wasn't even a romantic place to _do _that.

I spread further into the school, hypothesizing that Alex had traveled far in order to escape his courters. My heels were burning my feet, so I resolved to take them off and carry them in my hand instead. I was half-way to the cafeteria by the time I heard voices, one of which I automatically identified as Alex's.

I swiveled my head to face down K Hall, where I heard the conversation, but something I saw made me panic and hide behind the white brick wall. Alex was there, with his striped tie undone and his jacket tattered. I guess he actually had tried dancing and failed. He was discussing something in a low, dark voice with two other figures that I could have spotted from a mile away.

_This…can't be right._

One of the figures was a young woman, with skin the color of the setting sun. Her face was insanely beautiful, but her eyes were wide, green, and pupil-less, like an alien's. Instead of having "hair," her scalp had sprouted green, leafy vines. A myriad of flowers and colors rained down those vines until they reached her feet which, I just realized, weren't touching the ground. Her body was slender, almost translucent, and her gown was just as diaphanous. It was sewn from tree fibers and branched leaves. It clung to her body as if it was a part of it.

The other strange figure was a meek boy who was significantly smaller than Alex, even though his age was indefinite. His skin was the shade of the summer sky and his blonde hair, a conglomeration of yellow petals, floated. His face was full and smooth, with warm eyes as bright as daffodils. He was not wearing a shirt, but his pants reached his heels, swarming his legs with a weaving pattern of green grass and blue stems. He was not barefoot, like the girl, but wore sandals of tree bark.

_What kind of weird-ass cosplay_ is _this? _

Alex was discussing something with them in all seriousness, as though he wasn't distracted _at all_ by their incredible outfits and face paint. Meanwhile, I couldn't look away. How awkward did you have to be to show up at a school dance dressed like _that_?

I couldn't hear much of the conversation and I was too timid to step out of my hiding spot, but my ears perked when I heard a wispy voice say my name. It wasn't Alex.

I bent over a little bit, just to check on the status of their conversation. Both of the figures had disappeared. How could they have vanished so quickly? I considered that for only a second before my eyes met Alex's. He was glaring directly at me.

He knew that I was listening.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Everything about Alex and me is awkward, but our car ride home was _unbearably_ awkward. He knew that I had seen him with the strange people, the cos-players with the vibrantly-colored skin and whimsical, organic clothing. He didn't know, however, that I had seen that fast silver thing twice now: once at his house and once at the dance. I didn't know what it was, but I wasn't naive enough to rule out that it had something to do with him.

He was anything but willing to tell me, but then again, I wasn't too anxious to find out. We were friends, not lovers. He had his business and I had mine. If he had a secret passion of sprinting around in only a bright silver suit, I couldn't intervene. A long as our relationship remained unchanged, I didn't care_ what_ secrets he kept from me.

I watched Alex's clammy palms tighten their grip on the steering wheel. I could tell by the way he bit his lip and anxiously moved his limbs that he was nervous. Did he have something to say? Did he expect _me_ to say something?

I turned to the window and pulled my gray hoodie over my eyes, refusing to look at him, afraid that I would stare. I was amazed that it was still raining as hard as it was four hours ago. I normally thought rain was very calming, but the harsh winds and uncomfortable mood made it feel eerie.

After a ten minute drive that felt like hours, Alex pulled a little too swiftly into my driveway. He unlocked my door with a button on his touchscreen dashboard, but I didn't leave immediately. I stared outside, wondering how I could face my mother again in this dirty and drenched outfit. What would I say to her? Did I have to apologize? I half-hoped that she had drunk herself to sleep so that I wouldn't feel pressured to say anything upon my entrance.

Alex sensed my apprehension with his super nerd powers and asked _exactly_ what I wanted him to ask. "Do you want me to walk you inside?"

I instantly nodded and shoved open the door, leaving him rushed and confused. The rain suddenly doused me and poured over me like a blanket. Even though the headlights of Alex's car were bright, the rain was so thick that I hadn't even noticed the absence of my mother's car.

That would greatly reduce the tensions in my house at least for a little while.

I tore off my heels and jogged to the front door, strapping my arms to my sides, as though that would keep them warm. I took refuge under the overhang of my front door, glad that mom had at least left the front light on so that I knew where the door knob was. I heard Alex splashing through the puddles behind me before he joined me in the cramped corner under the overhang.

My house was nowhere as impressive as his. It was a simple two-story, brick house with a single wide window peering into the family room and a detached garage. Average. I didn't have a porch with beautiful potted plants and a swinging bench in front of my door like he did, but he didn't care about the presentation. Although my house was boring, he often preferred to hang out here than at his place. For whatever reason.

We stayed in the cramped, dry space under the porch overhang while I jingled my keys, searching for a house key through about twenty different store MVP cards. I found it, shoved it hastily into the lock, and then nudged the door open. I invited Alex inside, but grew stiff as I heard him close the door.

I frantically thought, _What can we talk about? I'm afraid it'll go like 'So, wanna watch a movie? And in the meantime, can you tell me about those freaks that you were talking to at the dance?' Yeah, that would be smooth. Wait, why am I so curious? I decided to let him tell me only what he wanted me to know. I shouldn't feel bothered._

The funny thing was that, the more I tried to convince myself that I didn't care, the more it concerned me. I knew everything. About school. About global affairs. Not so much about modern teenage interactions, but those were irrelevant. I considered myself an _expert _on Alex.

I firmly gripped my beanie; touching the smooth fabric and the spongy curls of my hair normally calmed me down. I watched Alex prepare a spot for us on the couch and I smiled, even though my mind was racing. He had taken off his tux jacket and undone the first few buttons of his shirt, looking very relaxed. He had a habit of making my house his second home. His fluffy black hair was tousled, like it had been wind-blown, and his eyebrows were raised inquisitively above his deep brown irises. He held open one end of a fleecy black blanket and I joined him without hesitation. I felt completely comfortable snuggling up to him under the blanket. It was nothing that I hadn't done before.

Maybe Aimee was _right_ to think of me as a threat.

We ended up watching recorded episodes of Jeopardy until around 12:30. We kept score to see which one of us would have won if we had been contestants. He beat me in one game only because it was heavy on popular culture and sports, neither of which I knew _anything_ about. The only Final Jeopardy question that I didn't get correct was the two years of the nineteenth century in which three men were president.

I normally went to bed around three AM on weekends. I occupied myself with cleaning, organizing, researching, and watching Jeopardy episodes that I had missed while doing all of the above. However, after Alex and my marathon, I was exhausted. Today had been an eventful day.

My mother still wasn't home.

I nearly drifted to sleep on Alex's shoulder. We heard Trebek's voice booming from the screen, but neither one of us was paying attention. I wondered who those people were that he had been talking to, and mentally praised them for the detail they had given to their outfits. I wondered who they were to Alex and what they were talking about. I told myself to stop worrying, but I couldn't. He wouldn't tell me anything. I _despised_ not knowing. Was this how Alex felt all the time, since I never entrusted him with any of _my_ secrets?

"Are you feeling okay?" He asked, probably concerned about my wet clothing. I could have changed, but I was so comfortable with him that I didn't have the incentive to put on something warmer.

"I'm fine. My clothes are a little drier now, anyway." I reassured him, even though I was holding back a million questions behind tight lips. I snuggled into the crook of his neck, wishing that this simple act could make me understand him better. _And_ because half of me was poking out of the blanket, so I was starting to get cold. Alex and I sat quietly as we heard the Jeopardy theme playing through an Advil advertisement.

Then, suddenly, I realized our situation. A teenage boy and girl, alone in a dark house in the middle of the night, wearing wet clothing and cuddling for warmth.

I would have to be stupid to _not_ notice what was going on.

I raised my head, afraid that he might have had the same thoughts. I hadn't mapped out a proper phrasing of that ridiculous question that was forming in my mature but perverted mind, but I didn't get the chance.

Once I turned, Alex and I were face-to-face, our foreheads barely two inches away. When I looked at him closely, I determined that he did, in fact, have a face worth being fawned over. A long face with smooth contours. Sexy, dark, drooping eyes. Thin lips with a perfect cupid's bow. An expression that made him look like a puppy starving for love and attention. Sure, that boy back in Kindergarten had the fruit snacks going for him, but Alex was attractive.

_Hasn't Alex always looked like this? Is it weird that I only just noticed that after being his best friend for two years? Why have I never noted it before?_

_Haven't I? I've always thought that he was attractive_, right?

A flurry of thoughts ran through my head, but I was too focused on Alex's face to discern which ones were actually _true_ and which ones really sounded like my _own_.

I started feeling strange, like my body was slowly being boiled. The feeling started in my chest and, before I knew it, my heart was thumping at a frantic and constant pace. My head was swimming. I had never felt like this before. It didn't seem natural, but then again, I didn't know what 'natural' was supposed to feel like. So, even though I wasn't sure_ how_ I was feeling and even though my mind felt boggled with emotions I had never even read about, let alone_ felt_ before, I let whatever was happening to me happen.

My eyes widened and he blushed crimson. We both had no idea what to do, but I didn't want to move. I anticipated feeling his breath on my cheek, but he was holding it behind clenched teeth. We didn't dare say anything, but I didn't dare break our eye contact either. His eyes were so brown that they were almost black, and they were drawing me in like a magnet.

He was so good-looking. His embarrassed expression was so cute. This alien feeling in my body grew hotter. I leaned in, which made him flinch.

I wanted to see more.

I leaned in dangerously close, not sure what I was doing, but unsure what else to do to quell the burning in my chest. He closed his eyes to keep from going cross-eyed. Not only did he not breathe, but it seemed like all of his bodily processes had ceased. His face was beet red and I was unexpectedly happy that he hadn't worn glasses tonight.

I leaned in once more—

And the doorbell reverberated throughout the house.

We both jumped, which led to the crown of my head ramming into his chin. I heard the resounding collision of bone in my skull and my hand flew to my hairline, massaging the injury. Alex grunted as he lifted a hand on his chin, mumbling obscenities and pained groans.

"I'm so sorry!" I cried, feeling extremely bashful for my hasty…_whatever _I was doing.

He rubbed his chin a few more times before murmuring, "It's fine. I'm fine. My whole body is—_ow_—made of steel."

Although it felt like I had head-butted a boulder, I giggled. "You've got a hard head."

"You do, too!"

I continued to rub my forehead, but stood up from the couch and rushed to the front door. When I was about to touch the doorknob, a fearsome though entered my brain: _Who would visit my house at 12:30 in the morning?_ I was still for a few seconds and I wondered if the visitor had left. Alex turned around and watched me from the couch, eyebrows raised.

The doorbell rang a second time, followed by a husky voice with a subtle Southern dialect. "Hello? Miss Scott? I'm a police officer. I would like to talk to you."

The police? I hadn't done anything wrong. Why were they here?

I unlocked the front door's bolt with one hand and turned the knob with the other. There was, indeed, a police officer on my doorstep, gathering his large body onto my tiny porch. The muscular officer was bald, drenched from the rain, and had light-brown skin that led me to believe he was mixed-racial. His face was a mixed as his skin, a combination of dignified calm and disturbed gloom.

"Are you Miss Silvia Scott?" His voice boomed as he stared at my eye so directly that I thought he could see through me.

I tried not to look nervous, even though my heart was beating a million miles a minute. I was too mature to show my fear, so I stood tall and clasped my hands together in front of my stomach, trying to look serene. "Yes, I am she. How may I be of assistance, officer?" _Nailed it!_ I sounded like a snob, but my voice didn't shake at all.

The officer furrowed his brows, then mumbled, "Do you mind if I come in for a moment? The rain—"

"Oh, of course!" I said, immediately followed by a mental scolding for such an unreasonable volume. "I don't mind at all. Come in." I backed away from the front door and motioned him inside. He only stepped onto the doormat before closing the door behind him. "Would you like to sit down?" I offered politely, but he didn't move.

"I'm fine here, thank you." He responded.

"Silvie," Alex called form the couch, giving me an expression of anxious bafflement. "What's going on?"

I didn't have the chance to grace him with an answer before the officer spoke up. "I tried calling the house a few times, but no one answered."

The phone had wrung a couple of times during our Jeopardy marathon, but I hadn't answered. I had assumed that it was my mother, wanting to yell at me for not alerting her of my return. If she _cared so much, _she should have stayed home.

She was gone and I didn't _care_ where she was.

I gave the officer a nod because I really didn't know what to say. I was unsure as to whether sitting down at the moment was appropriate, so I stood stiffly across from the officer, staring curiously at him.

The big man sighed, preparing for something painful. "Have you had any contact with your mother tonight, Miss Scott?"

_My mom? What did she do?_ I thought, _Rob an ABC store? Get a DUI? Did she teepee the house of the Olive Garden hostess again because of that ONE TIME that she refused to seat us when mom had a BAL of .12?_ Then again, if my mom had done something truly awful, a police officer wouldn't have visited me personality, right? What if she had done something minor and he was giving her a ride home? If that was the case, where was she?

"Yes," I answered, skillfully keeping my voice from shaking. "I saw her around 7:00, right before I left for a dance."

He nodded, confirming my alibi by taking into account the damp dress, Alex's tie, and the bloody heels by the door. "Was that the last time you contacted her?"

"Yes, sir."

"Did she tell you where she was going?"

"No, sir."

"She didn't call you?"

"I don't know, sir. Not on my cell phone."

The officer clenched his jaw and a thick line spread across his forehead. "Miss Scott," he began morbidly, "Your mother was on Greenbrier Parkway when she was in a car accident."

An…an accident?

A car accident?

Where was my mom?

"It was a head-on collision. Your mother was drunk and drifting into the oncoming lane. A call phone called 9-1-1, but we suspect that it was the other driver." Although his eyes were glum, he looked at me directly. I almost wished he wouldn't. Recognizing that someone else was here made everything seem more real.

Where was my mom?

"We came to the scene around 10:45. Both cars were pretty badly damaged. Your mother's…was flipped over."

That can't be. _I'm not hearing this._

I couldn't hear anything. The pounding of my heart in my ears was deafening. I felt Alex's hand on my arm and saw the officer's mouth moving, but the only thing in my world was a numbing, reverberating _thump_.

I felt a swarm of emotions surge in my body so quickly that I couldn't even identify them. My body was hot and cold at the same time. I was dizzy. My eyes were blurry. I couldn't think straight. I suddenly felt sick.

"I'm sorry to tell you this—"

_Where's my mom?_

"Your mother is dead."


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

The world had never been so quiet.

There were no clumping shoes on the wooden kitchen floor. No fuzzy television. No drunken snores.

My alarm clock still rang each morning. That one stair still creaked even at the slightest amount of pressure. My bedroom was still a mess. Mail was still being delivered. The refrigerator still hummed with a familiar electric _buzz_.

But everything was different.

The phone was relentlessly ringing. People on the line gave their condolences. After about the tenth call, I stopped answering.

At school, the silence was excruciating.

People I had never even spoken to, which were most of the students in the senior class, gave me sorrowful nods. Some tried to comfort me in classes or while walking down hallways. Sometimes, they would just stare. Almost no one spoke to me. No one except the teachers, most of whom recommended that I attend therapy, trying to seem like they cared.

_Oh, so_ now _they realize I exist._

What was there to talk about? It would just turn into an hour of some crack asking me how I felt about everything until I would flick him off once that mandated torture session was over. I was able to handle_ everything_ on my own.

What had pissed me off wasn't my mom or the talk of a funeral or how quiet my house was. What made me _seething mad_ was how everyone decided, _just then_, to start caring about me. During this time, I received calls from relatives I hadn't spoken to in years who wanted "to rekindle a relationship" with me. People uncharacteristically reached out to speak to me, even if it was about something inane, like the weather or how much homework we had that night.

What sparked that interest? It wasn't because of me.

It was because of pity.

I _hated_ being pitied. I could never accept it, even if it was the death of me.

I was smart. The salutatorian. I was excellent at music and volunteered regularly at my local library. Except for my alcoholic mother, I had seen my life behind rose-tinted glass. Maybe no one else thought that I was happy, but I didn't need, nor had I ever _wanted_, anyone's pity.

Besides, didn't I have a _right_ to be upset? To be a little distressed? To keep to myself? All I wanted was time alone, but _no one_ would let me have it. All I wanted was time to reflect on what had happened. How everything—

Was my fault. How I had insulted her. How depressed she had become. How I had driven her into a corner.

It was my fault, but everyone told me it wasn't. _Who were they_ to judge me? _Who were they_ to tell me what had happened? _Who were they_ to worry about how I felt? _Who were they_ to judge my mother as a woman who wouldn't do something like that? What did _they _know?

They didn't know anything.

Even though the world was silent, my mind was filled with a constant, piercing scream.

My mom was buried on a chilly, windy day in March. The guests were old friends, strangers, and distant relatives. Someone had asked me to make a speech, but I had refused, so no one spoke except the priest. As the ceremony ended, we were all surrounded by black limos and black umbrellas. As I stared blankly at my mother's gravestone, long after most of the guests had left, several people stopped by me to apologize.

Every apology made me even sicker.

I traced my fingers along the engraving of her name: TRACY DANAE SCOTT. The date of birth: 4-17-1968. The date of death: 2-26-2013. It was surreal. It was impossible. But the more I grabbed and clawed and squeezed the gravestone, the more reality sunk in.

I glanced at the limo driver as a fierce wind forced everyone to retreat. He was waving to get my attention, signaling for me to return as well, but I wanted one last word. One final goodbye. A sign that maybe my world wasn't crumbling as quickly as it felt like it was.

I heard only silence.

I never realized how important an income was until my electricity suddenly shut off a couple weeks later. Bills flooded the mailbox, but there was no money coming in. If I had gotten a part-time job before this mess, I could have been well-off. However, I soon learned to live without television and a microwave. Eventually, I would learn how to live without a heater. Only a week later, my water was cut off, too.

I don't know why I didn't just leave. I had a car and a motive, but not the audacity. I had lived in this house since my birth. I had taken my first steps here, had my first solid food here, and taken my first steps here. All of my memories with my parents and their friends were engrained onto the floors; they were embedded into the walls. Sometimes, I wondered why there was no one looking for me. Why was there no one trying to help me out of this situation? I was still in high school, so I couldn't work full-time. Regrettably, I was eighteen years old. It wasn't like the Child Protective Services had any obligation to come find me.

Since the cell phone wasn't paid for, I had no way to contact Alex. He might have tried to call my house phone, but I had received _too many_ calls beginning with, "Hello? Is this Silvia? This is _ and I'm sorry for your loss." Since my car had about five miles worth of gas, it wasn't even worth trying to get away. I survived by myself. I bought food at a convenience store just down the street. I lit tens of candles when the sun would set so that I could see during the night. I didn't even cook anymore because there was no point if I was the only one eating it.

One evening, I was prepared to buy some water bottles and Cheetos at the convenience store, so I left my dark house and shuffled to my car. The sun was setting, so the sky was a light pink with an orange outline engulfing huge, puffy clouds. If I wasn't so depressed, I would have thought that it was beautiful. Some of the trees were beginning to bud flowers, but the air was bitingly cold. It was colder than usual for mid-March in coastal Virginia.

I opened Lisa and wasted no time stuffing my key into the ignition. It revved, then cluttered to a stop. Sometimes, it would take a few tries for the engine to start up. She _was_ an old woman after all. However, I was worried after my fourth or fifth attempt to start Lisa was met with nothing but a sputtering and ultimately failing engine. My car was dead.

Too frustrated to curse, I exited the car, slammed the door behind me, and stormed back into the house. I had blown out all of the candles before I left, so I was clambering around in the dark to locate my belongings. I dropped my keys onto the kitchen table and the clang echoed throughout the hollow house. I stuffed fifty dollars into my pocket from a stash I had saved up over years of babysitting and working off the books at a dentist's office since I was fourteen. Mom hadn't made a will, so the placement of her inheritance was still being decided. I knew that he had kept a stash of money locked inside of a safe in her closet, but she had never entrusted me with the combination. I grabbed my gray beanie and a William and Mary sweatshirt to pull over my leather jacket, determined to _walk_ to the store if I couldn't drive.

I left the house and the sun had set even further behind the trees. The wind picked up and I was more conscious of the impending storm. I marched along the sidewalk with my face hidden under my beanie and my hands in my pockets, keeping a tenacious grip on my wallet.

All of the houses in my neighborhood looked the same. Two-story brick houses with huge windows in front and detached garages. This was another reason why I liked the city. Everyone was different, so no one really stood out. I couldn't help but stand out as the poor high school kid with no parents, living in the only house on the block with no lights.

It was third week of March, so I was surprised to hear the incessant chirping of birds getting a head-start on mating season. Only a few of the trees had leaves, unsure what to do during this transition phase between winter and spring. The breeze had become warmer, but the ground crunched with winter frost. This was the kind of weather I liked, so I wasn't going to complain about having to walk in it.

Unfortunately, the breeze grew colder as the sky opened up. I was about half a mile away from Harris Teeter when my sweatshirt was suddenly soaked by hard winter rain. I laughed bitterly to myself.

It hadn't rained since the night my mom died.

I was so useless. I had bragged for years about how much of an adult I was. How much of an awful drunk _she_ was. But I was _hopeless _without her income. I could do the laundry and the dishes and make myself dinner, but what was the point if there was no electricity, no water, and no gas? Just because I was the responsible one _did not_ mean that I was an adult. What did it even _mean_ to be an adult?

"_So, you're right! I can't wait until I'm out of this house and I don't have to worry about you constantly!"_

_Did I really tell her that?_

An _adult_ wouldn't have blown up like that.

I was only a child.

While wallowing in self-deprecation, I heard the familiar purr of a brand spanking new BMW engine. There was only one car on the road and it was trailing behind me. As it pulled up to my side, the passenger window rolled down, revealing the first and last person I wanted to see at that moment. I bit my lip, wishing that he hadn't seen me looking as terrible as I must have: no makeup on, messy hair, wet clothes, muddy shoes, saggy hat covering a worn face.

Alex leaned over the center console, giving me a stern look. "It's pouring. Get in the car. I'll give you a ride." He offered while grinning at me, unknowingly revealing his pain and melancholy through his eyes. I ignored him and tried walking away, but he kept up with my pace.

"Silvie, I'm serious. Get in the car." His voice was louder, trying to sound more forceful. I stopped. So did he. I was uncomfortable and wet and I wanted to pout like a child, but I refused his offer. The store was only a fifteen minute walk away.

"Why?" I asked tartly without looking at him. He probably couldn't hear me over the roaring rain, but if I spoke louder, I anticipated a scratchy and shaky voice following suit.

"I want to help you."

"Yeah? Well, get in line." I faced him with a skeptic and defiant glare. Alex was the person I trusted most in this world; however, this trust burdened him with the role of 'the last person from whom I'd take any bullshit.' "I'm so _sick_ of everyone saying that! And none of them really _mean_ it!"

Alex reacted as though a small knife had been dug into his chest. He must have known that I was only guarding my feelings with cruel words, but that didn't make them any less painful. His bushy eyebrows crinkled in distress, but he let me continue.

The rain covered the ground in thick sheets; I watched them flood the streets while thoughts gathered inside my head. I gripped my hat, hoping that the pain from tugging my hair off my scalp would keep me from bursting. It didn't work. "Every day, it's been the _same damn thing_! People call every second to see 'how I'm doing' and to 'see if they can help!' Why do people, all of a sudden, care about me?! It's annoying! _They_ weren't here in sixth grade when I broke my arm. _Or_ when I was inducted into the National Honors Society! Yet, they think that they're _close_ enough to me to offer up their food and their warmth and their houses! As if I _needed_ those! I _don't_ need them! I need to be _alone_!"

My screams echoed over the pounding rain, creating an entirely different storm. After a while, I had become so passionate that the sting of rushing wind and cold droplets on my face had disappeared. I felt the tears welling in my eyes, making me feel frail and ugly. I couldn't let Alex see me like this. I felt vulnerable. Helpless.

So I ran. I sprinted down the sidewalk, fearing that I would break down even further if I continued to look at him. My feet were heavy, but I ran anyway, even though I was slow in the first place. I was also _stupid_ to think that he wouldn't catch up to me. I mean, he was in a _car_. Even though I heard the engine and the windshield wipers and Alex's voice screaming my name, I didn't look up.

I cut down a side street, hoping that I could scramble into some corner where he couldn't find me. There was no such thing in the suburbs, but I was desperate enough to look. I was desperate enough to the point that I was running away _from a car_ and hiding from my best friend. The whole time, I was contemplating, _What the hell is wrong with me?_, but it was too late to turn back.

As I slipped and turned the corner onto the next street, Alex's car suddenly sped in front of me and braked, blocking my path. I pulled my beanie to cover my eyes and heard him jump out of his car, slamming the door behind him. I heard expensive boots splash through the mud and puddles in order to reach me, but I still refrained from peeking and possibly showing my swollen eyes. He didn't say anything. He stayed several feet away from me. I knew that his jacket must have been soaked and that his glasses were probably fogging up, but I couldn't face him.

My body was honest. Sometime during my flight, the tears I had been frantic to hide had slid down my cheek and were now clouding my vision of the damp and ill-repaired sidewalk. My face squeezed and contorted; I started making sounds that should have only been heard from a sick and emaciated feline. I attempted to quiet my sobs, but forcing those cries down did nothing but give me the hiccups.

I was pitiful.

"Silvie." I heard him mumble before a familiar set of arms gathered around me. Alex crushed me against him and held me tight to his chest, fearing that I would run away again. "It's okay. I'm here. You're fine." He cooed as his right hand delicately patted the top of dripping wet scalp. I could feel his heartbeat against my cheek and, even though it was fast, it was steady and strong. I closed my eyes, deciding to scold myself later for allowing myself to be seen with such an awful face. I soaked his shirt with new and salty tears.

After what felt like hours, I stepped back to peek at his face. His expression was one I hadn't seen before—a complicated mix of agony and remorse. As if on cue, Alex formed a fake smile, but the view of that distorted face stuck in my hysteric brain.

"Come on. Let's go." Alex led me to the passenger's side of his car. I struggled to enter with my dropping, weak body while he swooped into the driver's seat like a track star. He clicked on the seat warmer and cranked up the heat until I was sweating. Just to be overprotective, he also reached into the backseat and tugged on a blue hoodie with a black zipper. It still smelt like cologne. I didn't put it on; instead, I held to my chest, molding myself with its warmth and filling my lungs with its smell. "Aren't you cold? Your sweatshirt's soaked."

I thanked him silently since my mouth was too stubborn to move.

He didn't say anything. He shifted the car into drive and we headed down the street to his house. The only noises in the car were the patter of rain on the windows and the windshield wipers' rhythmic movements.

I felt horrible for taking out all my anger on Alex. Guilt gnawed on me worse than the vicious cold. Even though I could not gauge for a proper time to declare my apology, I was unspeakably glad that he was here. I wouldn't want anyone else _but_ him.

I caught a glimpse of his face as he was intently watching the road, even with his thick and damp black hair obstructing his view. His gray shirt clung to his chest and, although it was in my peripheral vision, I could clearly see his defined muscles. I watched as his chest moved up and down with his breaths and I thought of how remarkably different female and male physiques are.

_Wait, what am I doing?_ My face was enflamed and I turned away, scolding myself for thinking something so ridiculous and impractical. I grumbled into the window, "I'm sorry for before. For blowing up on you like that." My breath fogged the window and, in the reflection, I saw Alex stiffen.

I thought that he hadn't heard me since he hadn't responded, so I repeated myself. "I'm sorry for be—"

"_Please_ don't apologize." Alex murmured with his jaw set.

"But it was unnecessary and unwarranted—"

"No. You don't understand—"

"But I _really_ shouldn't have done that—"

The car abruptly braked. I bent forward from the momentum and crashed back into the seat. Alex stayed still. "Just _stop_. Please." He said something after that, but I didn't catch it. I was too embarrassed to ask him to reiterate.

I amused myself for the rest of the awkward car ride by watching the waves of water splashing back and forth across the windshield, trying to imagine something philosophical. Something by Thoreau or Mill or Sartre. _Cogito ergo sum_ or Plato's Cave. Something to make me feel like myself again.

The rain had reduced to a drizzle by the time we pulled into Alex's driveway. The clouds dissipated like steam and the waxing moon shined brightly in the night sky. I wiped my wet cheeks with the back of my hand, confused as to when I had stopped crying. The garage light illuminated the driveway and a single porch light was lit at the end of the stone walkway. After numbly trudging to the door, Alex ran in front of me and began shoving his keys into the keyhole, struggling to find the proper one. Frustrated, I sighed and grabbed his set of keys, finding the correct fit on my first try.

"It's official. I know your house better than you do." I chuckled softly and Alex ignored me, but I knew that he was trying to hold back a smile.

The house was deadly quiet. Almost eerie. The only sounds were Alex's and my shuffling feet and the creaking of the huge door. Most of the lights were off except for a few candelabras lining the hallway and a Victorian lamp in the living room. Even the kitchen lights were off, so I assumed that Alma was currently absent.

"We _should _be the only ones here." Alex nearly shouted and, simultaneously, we noticed two heads poked up from the living room couch.

Ryan jumped up with a mischievous smirk and bursting enthusiasm. His shirt was unbuttoned. As were his pants. He looked disheveled and absolutely promiscuous. Even though it disturbed me, I couldn't look away. "Well…I wasn't expecting you to get home so early, Lexi-poo."

"Don't call me that."

"Oh. Harsh." Ryan purred while simultaneously buttoning his shirt. "Oh, and you brought your girlfriend too. How _adorable_."

The other head was flushed red and quickly grabbed a decorative pillow from the other side of the couch. It was the tattooed girl whose name I always forgot. The last time I had seen her, she had blue, not pink, hair and was devoid of a nose ring. She was as skinny as a pole when she stood up and, even though she had a pillow covering her bared breasts, there was not much left to the imagination. She hurriedly wriggled into her bra and I nearly gagged when I noticed that Ryan was watching her with a hungry look. She gave him a kiss on the cheek and sprinted out the front door with only her cell phone and a black t-shirt.

Alex shook his head, clearing that image from his memory. How he had done that so easily, I had no idea. I was still reeling from disbelief and repugnance. "So, mom's not here, right? Have you eaten anything yet? I was about to make something for Silvie."

Ryan took large steps across the wooden floor and leaned precariously on one of the staircase's posts. "I was in the process of 'eating' when you two arrived." He winked.

_Gross._

"I can make something." I piped up. "I just need a change of clothes and permission to use your mom's kitchen."

Alex and Ryan looked inquiringly at each other, as if they shared a common suspicion for once. Alex turned to me and muttered uncertainly, "I…I think we're fine. Ryan can just buy take-out or something. You don't need to exert yourself—"

"_Give_ me permission to use your kitchen." I practically growled, wondering if he would understand the message I was trying to convey.

I still wasn't okay. I hadn't cooked in weeks. It was _therapy_ to me.

They both looked at me like I had three heads, but Alex eventually nodded. Once I received that non-verbal 'okay,' I raced to the kitchen and grabbed the closest cast iron pot. I almost made it a whole ten minutes without thinking about why I was here, but the memories flooded back in bulk.

My mom reading Charles Dickens' books to me. Me falling asleep on my mom's lap _because_ she was reading Charles Dickens' books to me. My mom's look of disappointment when I refused to wear a dress she had bought for me. Our campouts during the summertime to the backyard so that we could fall asleep while observing the stars.

But the happy memories deteriorated to those that reminded me of my cruel reality. My first time watching mom down four beers in one sitting. My mom's episodes where she would lock herself in her room for days at a time, refusing to even come out and eat. The first time I received a call from a cop, informing me that I had to pick my mother up from the station because she had had her license revoked after receiving a DUI. Having to clean up her vomit.

I realized that I shouldn't have been as miserable as I was.

My mom had died a long time ago.


	10. Chapter 10

****Sorry that this chapter is late, but I made up for it by making it longer than usual. I hope you guys don't mind.****

Chapter 10

I should have felt mad about having to leave my home. Leave the memories I had made in that house. Leave the stained curtain and the loud fridge and the picture I drew in second grade that was stuck on the kitchen pantry. I should've felt broken. I should've felt demolished after the death of my mother.

But I wasn't.

Just numb.

I started to think that I was going crazy. I habitually maintained my routine and came downstairs every morning before taking a shower. It was weird. She was really gone. And maybe, in the back of my mind, I was trying to deny that by retaining every other pattern in my life.

The problem was that I was too smart to negate that denial was only the first part of the grieving process. I couldn't ignore it forever.

But I damn well tried.

.

My bedroom was on the second floor, the furthest from the stairs and contingent to Alex's bedroom. It was inside the rotunda, so the back half of my room was shaped in a semi-circle. The back wall was covered from the floor to the ceiling with rectangular windows, each blanketed with gossamer white curtains. The white walls were convolutedly layered with golden vines near the bottom and riddled with classic paintings, including Caravaggio's _Calling of Saint Matthew _and Botticelli's _Birth of Venus._

The beige carpet blended well with the various shades of blue in the loveseat. There was a carved wooden table next to the seat that held a crystalline lamp and a small pot of pink and white Sweet Williams. The dresser, which was taller than me, was intricately carved with depictions of flowers and arabesque designs. A chandelier that matched the sparkling ones throughout the rest of the house dangled from the center of the room with bars strung together by pearls and seemingly thousands of miniature candles.

There was an impressive king bed that could comfortably sleep five people and sat below a lacy, light blue canopy. The bed skirt was royal blue, which contrasted with the puffy, powder blue comforter. The pillows were made of a thick blue fabric and the edges were lined with golden images of the 'fleur de lis.' I tossed the tens of decorative pillows haphazardly onto the flamboyantly styled rug, embarrassed and appalled by how much the Pierce's were spoiling me.

The color scheme was not distinctly royal, like I was some German duke who had never heard the word "modest." Instead, this room had the air of a flighty yet mature and polished princess who only used this room to dress herself and have secret escapes with her male servant lover.

The day after I arrived at Alex's house, we returned to mine to gather my belongings. The house was dark and cold, but I failed to become emotionally detached. I still found myself crying as we closed and locked the door behind us, earning Alex's sympathy. He hugged me once more, but the gentle embrace had lost its impact. It made me feel even more separated from the life I had once lived, and even more afraid of this unfamiliar life that lay before me.

Alma and I collaborated each night for dinner. After that, the family would gather for whatever dessert we had prepared while Charles cleaned up. My first day staying with Alex, I had tried to assist Charles in cleaning up the dishes, but he had practically shoved me away and completed his work alone. I was barred from doing any housework. In the Pierces' minds, I was a guest, not family. I knew that their actions were out of generosity and consideration of my situation, but instead of helping me assimilate, it made me feel even more distant.

One Saturday morning, I set my alarm to six to ensure that I was the first one awake. I stretched my limbs while sitting on my unbelievably soft bed, enjoying the stark silence inside the house and the twinkling lights of the chandelier. The sun had barely risen and the birds were enthusiastically chirping outside my windows. I crawled to the edge of the bed, wrapped Alma's hand-me-down robe around my crappy pajamas, and put on my abnormally large red glasses. Alex told me that, when I wore them, I looked like a hipster. I thought that I looked like a middle-aged woman who bought glasses to match her favorite pair of half-inch heels.

I did normal things like brush my teeth, wet my crazy curly hair, and put on some outfit that included a bra. I ran down the stairs as quietly as humanly possible, hoping to catch everyone by surprise by preparing a grand breakfast. I knew where Alma kept the eggs, turkey bacon, pancake mix, and sausage links.

The kitchen was as elegant as the rest of the house and maintained the color scheme of white, black, gold, rich red, and deep purple. The two ovens were engrained into a brick wall, but the other walls were off-white and connected with bulky white columns. The design was very organic, with leaves and vines strung around the sides of counters, the tops of cabinets, and the chains that suspended the overhead lights. The countertops were made of black and white marble. The island had enough space for four carved stools and a golden bowl filled with sweet-smelling potpourri. All of their machines were sleek and new. I had just figured out how to operate the stove about a week before. I was clamoring around on the wooden floor to gather materials, but there was no indication that I had woke anyone up.

Making breakfast was the least I could do to repay the Pierces, but it was nowhere close to cutting even.

Maybe Alma will soon be in need of a kidney. Or a blood transfusion. _Are we the same blood type? No, that's ridiculous. Maybe I could sell my old house and give her the money. That might be too much—_

"Silvie? _What_ are you doing up this early?"

I dropped a piece of bacon back into the pan and was splashed by hot grease. I winced. My plan was blown. "I was…was—ow—planning to surprise you guys."

Alex smirked as I wrung out my hand, hoping that the stinging sensation would disappear. He wore a black robe, but his blue sweats stuck out from the bottom. His hair was reminiscent of a bird's nest and he wasn't wearing his glasses. His eyes were red with sleep and I could tell that he was using a lot of energy just to stand up straight. Even with his messy face and shirt sliding down his shoulder, he still looked more presentable than me. I faced the bacon once again, pouting. "Anyway, what are you doing up so early? Saturday cartoons?"

He rolled his dark eyes and took a seat in one of the thin wooden stools. "You're not as stealthy as you thought. I heard those ogre footsteps of yours from my bedroom."

"No way."

"Well, yeah. That actually was a lie."

I grinned and turned off the burner, suddenly very curious. "Well, what's up?"

I heard him pick up a dried flower from the bowl of potpourri and slowly crush it between his fingers. The bacon was still sparking and jumping from the heat, so I quickly dumped it onto a golden plate. I brought the plate to the island and began munching on a piece, probably looking like a dirty rabid dog.

"I was actually planning to surprise _you_." He admitted, grabbing some bacon between his slender fingers.

"_Were_ you now?" My words were muffled because my mouth was full, but I didn't find it necessary to repeat myself.

He nodded. "I was gonna ask you if you wanted to have, like, a picnic or something for breakfast. But you were a step ahead of me." He engulfed an entire piece of bacon, then choked for a second as it traveled slowly down his throat. I laughed, unsure why his clumsiness was so charming.

I fell into the stool next to him, "We could do lunch. I mean, I have no plans today."

"You _never_ have plans."

"Then, _of course_ I'm free!"

His smile was so bright that I couldn't look directly at him. Alex and I had only communicated with tense sentences and nods when I first moved in, but our relationship was slowly returning to normal. I hadn't forgotten about our near-kiss on the night of the dance, but the memory of what happened to my mom overrode any pleasant memories of that night.

We made plans to eat in Portsmouth City Park at 1:00, but as I made our food, I thought of my mother. How her death had changed my life irrevocably. How this change only reinforced my belief that getting involved with people was more trouble than it was worth.

With all of these depressing thoughts swirling around my head, Alex was probably the only person who could keep me sane.

.

The sun beat down in a wave on that afternoon in late March, so the park was packed, as we had anticipated. There were elderly people sitting on benches, feeding birds and nagging young passersby. There were people stinking up the tennis courts while their friends laughed mockingly at them. There were couples feeding each other treats on brightly colored blankets and literally _emanating_ hormones.

When I had first moved in, Alma had insisted on taking me shopping, so half of my wardrobe was completely new. I decided to wear a few new garments on this…_whatever_ it was. I wore a collared, quarter-sleeve shirt that was dimly purple. I covered it with a white denim vest that I could barely button over my bust. I matched this ensemble with light blue skinny jeans, which were held up by a braided brown belt and finished with dark brown boots with a small heel. Alex had let me borrow his blue hoodie, since the weather called for temperatures in the low to mid-50s. This outfit was too feminine for my tastes, but couldn't necessarily say that I stood out among the other park attendees.

Alex, wearing a white and black striped t-shirt, dark blue jeans, and a thick black belt, held my hand from when we exited his car until we were in one of the fields in the park. I brought out the blanket from the hall closet and the lunch that I made, but Alex stopped me before I set everything up. "I think I know a more _badass_ place for us to eat." He said with an odd smile on his face.

I trusted him, even as he led me far past the benches, man-made ponds, and designated camping areas. The park was the valley between rolling hills and a river, so I was concerned when we headed further toward the hills and the tree line. "Where exactly are we going?" I asked as he pulled me along by my fingers. I debated with myself as to whether or not I enjoyed that.

The sun shone just right on his glasses so that I couldn't see his eyes. "Some place I found a few years ago. I think you'll really like it."

"You _think_?"

"I _know_."

This kind of confidence was rare from him, so I trusted him, even though the wicker basket full of food grew heavier and heavier each yard that we stalked away from the park. As the trees grew bigger and closer, I thought of the lovers from _A Midsummer Night's Dream_ who had run into the woods to have a secret rendezvous. God, that was such a horrid play.

Suddenly, what I thought was a complete canopy of trees opened to a horizon. Over the peak of the largest hill, there was a gigantic field of flowers. I had never seen so many in the same vicinity, especially not anywhere near our poorly funded city park. Daffodils, sunflowers, chrysanthemums, snow drops, and goldenrod poked out from supple green grass. But…that didn't make any _sense_. There were flowers in the same place that were all supposed to bloom in different seasons. Were they _genetically engineered_ or something?

Even though there was such a wide variety, fox gloves dominated. These beautiful cupped flowers bathed the field in shades of pink and purple. Fox glove are poisonous, but I found myself mindlessly being drawn toward them. The field stretched for miles and the mountains of flowers were almost as tall as the trees. The flowers disappeared over the next hill and the field was half a mile wide the edges lined with fresh green trees. What kind of place was this where the trees were already so lush and green at the end of March? There was a gentle breeze from downhill, blowing my vest up and making the trees bend and sway. It seemed more natural than being simply blown; like they were really moving.

The only noise was the howling of wind and the rustling of leaves. The sun shined brighter here. There were no clouds in the sky. The air was clearer, fresher, like we were in some biosphere that had never been touched by pollution. We were surrounded by the calm, warm embrace of nature; there were no animals of which to speak, even though I had been hearing chirping birds all day. I had never seen such a wondrous place before. How had Alex found it?

Alex grinned at me and I blushed when my nerves once again recognized that we were holding hands. He intended for us to have a picnic _here_? People had been _proposed to_ in places less fancy than this! I gripped the wicker basket nervously, trying to hold off a pounding heart by occupying my mind with thoughts like: _What are his intentions? How are we supposed to eat in a place with flowers taller than us?_

After graciously taking my hand, Alex led me down the hill at full speed. We laughed as we tumbled and tripped down the grassy slope, which was much steeper than I had originally thought. We crashed into a budding foxglove, then erupted into the maze of flowers. He kept a firm grip on my hand, which I was grateful for. I may have been a genius, but I had a pathetic sense of direction. We skimmed through the field, brushing against soft stems and waxy flowers. Whenever we passed through and it seemed as though the flowers would slam into our faces, they would part, as if moving away on their own. Like they were creating a path for us. I was surrounded by the scent of freshness, nature, and something sweeter.

The sun was not blinding, but radiant. The field was endless.

I was in heaven.

"So, do you like it here?" Alex asked, peering back at me as we skipped through the field.

"Are you _kidding_? I love it!" I responded, deciding to leave all of the questions I had accumulated for later.

"Do you wanna head for the trees?" He was already leaning to the left, heading for the dark curtain of evergreens.

"Can we eat in there?"

"Of course!"

"Then, what are we waiting for?!" I replied, enthusiastic and breathless. Because I ate well, I wasn't overweight, but I had always cringed at the thought of exercise. I wasn't good at anything physical. The epitome of a nerd.

The curtain of trees was pulled before us, leading us to a stage of wet mulch and smoothed rocks, all encased by trees the size of skyscrapers. It was a rainforest of deciduous trees and the spaces between branches and leaves allowed in speckled sunlight. The trees had types of roots I had never seen before. Some stuck straight out of the ground, like stalagmites, while others wrapped around tree trunks like vines. They weaved together above and below the ground to connect the roots, as if they were on the same network. Like they were all an extension of the same tree.

I could finally hear the chirping of birds but they were calls that I had never heard before. They followed the wind current that was blocked by the magnificent trees. Fortunately, there was a gap between trees that allowed in the gusts. It circled around the clearing, swirling my hair into delicate tendrils that were even messier and curlier than usual. The wind itself was a creature, prancing around and making sweet music.

Alex took the blanket from my basket and flapped it around until it settled on the ground. I placed the picnic basket down and tore off the jacket that Alex had loaned me. I had been in such a state of euphoria that I hadn't realized how hot it had become. It was barely 40 degrees a few minutes ago! Alex sat cross-legged while I sat on my feet, undoing the bow that I had wrapped around the basket. I began removing items: Caesar salad in plastic Tupperware, chocolate-covered strawberries, mini turkey and cheese sandwiches on yeast rolls, tuna salad, two apples, two Mountain Dews, and a package of plastic utensils on top of plastic plates.

"What is your order, monsieur?" I asked Alex in possibly _the worst_ French accent of all time.

He grabbed my hand, then placed it tenderly and dramatically upon his chest, "I would love to have _you_, mademoiselle."

"Oh, monsieur!"

I dished him out some tuna salad onto a plate, then dug out a turkey sandwich and placed it on top. He wouldn't eat salad, so that was all mine. After dropping a spoonful of salad, spilling the package of utensils while scurrying for a fork, and losing half of my Mountain Dew to the grass when it exploded, we _finally _began eating.

Alex and I liked to talk when we ate, so he kept me occupied with gossip which, even though I never spread, I thought was intriguing. We discussed classes and I tried for about fifteen minutes to explain exponentials to him until I realized that the blank look on his face was never going to change. We actually spent ten minutes trying to brainstorm the lyrics to that 'Troublemaker' song. There were a lot of quirky jokes and awkward laughing.

For the hour or however long Alex amused me here, I had forgotten about everything that had made me so depressed during the previous few weeks. Whenever I was with him, I felt fantastic. As if a spell had been cast upon me. I couldn't _remember_ the last time I had felt so happy.

"How can you _not_ like chocolate-covered strawberries?" I whined while taking a bite of said juicy delicacy.

He shrugged, "I've never really liked chocolate."

"You're inhuman!" I pointed another strawberry at him judgmentally before engulfing it.

He laughed awkwardly, but made no other stake in the argument.

"You know, for such a picky eater, I'm surprised that you let me make our lunch." I raised my eyebrow wondering if he had heard me even though my mouth was full. I pushed my curly hair behind my shoulder as I took another bite.

He ran his hand along a bushel of grass, meticulously picking out individual pieces with his fingers. "It's not my fault that I have _standards_. My mom's a _chef_, for God's sake."

"Yet, you still volunteer to taste her _experimental dishes_?"

"You gotta give some to get some. It's to repay her."

"For making lobster every Thursday night?" I joked, knowing that he wouldn't like another one of my rich boy jokes. Now that I thought about it, it was possible that he hadn't _found_ this part of the park, but his mom had in fact _bought_ it. _Wait. Why am I ruining the moment? Why can't I be more quixotic?_

He scoffed, looking almost royal as he brushed away his thick black hair. The breeze was soft, but relentless. "My dear lady, you know that _Friday_ nights are for lobster. Thursday nights are dedicated to Asian cuisine."

I rolled my eyes and found myself looking at a bush that was literally orange. Were we inside of a Dr. Seuss book? "Whatever, your highness. But honestly, all of this stuff was, like, _ridiculously_ easy to make. Why couldn't you do it? Or do you see me as just a lowly servant?"

He grinned, but I could undoubtedly tell that it was a façade to mask a darker, gloomier emotion. The howling in the trees seemed to grow louder, more crisp, like the crescendo of dramatic music right before a movie's climax.

"What?" I leaned in and softened my tone.

He faced the tree canopy and the light speckled across his face, making him look like a Renoir painting. "Well, you like to cook, right? I…knew that it would make you happy, and you need some cheering up."

Our silence was encircled with the tweeting of birds and the sounds of small creatures bustling through the grass. I was sure that my face was bright red, but looked downward anyway, just in case he hadn't noticed. Did he know how _adorable_ that was? Who gave him the right to say something so precious? That damn face of his. He had been starting to affect me more than usual lately.

His plan had certainly worked. After everything that had happened in the past month, I needed some positive reinforcement. Being in a marvelous garden with a great meal and a great guy: I would have had to be _insane_ to not be overjoyed.

A rustling in the bushes brought my mind back down to Earth.

Both of our heads swiveled toward a neon green bush only ten feet away. We had definitely heard movement, but it had sounded larger than a squirrel. I climbed to my feet, preparing to chase the animal away, but Alex rushed to stop me. His held a plate in one of his large hands and my left shoulder in the other.

"Wait!" He exclaimed with a broken voice and worried eyes. "I'll take care of it. Stay. Here. Don't move until I come back." With that caveat, he let go of my shoulder and leapt into the woods, dropping his half-filled plate of food and leaving me extremely troubled.

Two minutes had passed before I decided to down another turkey sandwich.

Five minutes had passed before I pulled up a patch of grass in the shape of heart.

Ten minutes had passed before I played a whole five games of Temple Run on my phone.

Twenty minutes had passed before I began to grow severely concerned.

Not only had the rustling stopped, but so did the chirping of birds. Even the wind had stopped. The whole world was at a peaceful but eerie standstill. I hadn't heard Alex. He hadn't called out to me or given me any sign as to the progression of his search. I couldn't even see his silhouette among the interweaving of trees and branches.

Even though he had told me not to move, I stepped off of the blanket, intending to inspect the woods. I was not as apprehensive as I _could_ have been. I knew that there were no bears, wolves, etc. in the Hampton Roads area. The biggest animals we had around here were dogs on leashes. This place was already mysterious; what other treasures, besides the field of fox gloves, were hiding in this secret area of the park?

I shoved my brown boots back over my jeans and picked up the picnic basket, knowing that it contained my phone in case anything happened. Well, this was a bad idea in general. Sending a person with a bad sense of direction to find another person with a bad sense of direction? Unfortunately, it was my sole option.

My foot grazed the smooth grass, but the ground was rougher and harder the closer I drew to the tree line. I stepped over a root and began a long and complicated trek further into the trees. I kept the basket on my arm like Little Red Riding Hood and continuously called out Alex's name, hoping for a response. There was no rustling still, but I began to hear sounds once again. The birds were far away, but they were squawking fervently. I heard the trickling of water. I heard the crunch of leaves and sticks as my new boots surveyed the land. I saw no other creature, but I assured myself that they were there. Hampton Roads basically had a 3:1 squirrel to human ratio.

I didn't check my phone to see how long I had walked, but I knew that it was for at least thirty minutes. I occupied my mind by singing songs to myself and, for some ungodly reason, reciting lines that had stuck in my brain from _A Midsummer Night's Dream_.

"If we shadows have offended,

Think but this, and all is mended,

That you have but slumbered here

While these visions did appear.

And this weak and idle theme,

No more yielding but a dream,

Gentles, do not reprehend:

If you pardon, we wi—"

Then, suddenly, I wasn't alone. The bush to my right rustled faintly and I curiously peered over. A bunny with huge brown eyes and checkered fur hopped through the foliage. It was miniature, as though it was only a few weeks old, and its ears were turned downward innocently. Its whiskers were wider than its face, contributing to its dwarfed and gentle appearance. It wrinkled its nose before meeting my eyes, after which I inwardly melted.

I knew that it wasn't smart to approach animals in the wild, but this adorable bunny that could fit into my palm was _definitely_ not a threat. I crouched down slowly, simultaneously bringing my hand closer and closer to the bunny's head. I cooed sweet, nonsensical things and met his head with a tender pat. I rubbed his head and ears for a few moments, temporarily engorging myself with cuteness. The bunny nuzzled into my hand and I was tempted to pick him up and take him home.

_Alex wouldn't have a problem adopting a pet, right? It's not like he can't afford them._

The bunny and I shared a fun and intimate moment when, suddenly, he hopped away from my hand. I assumed that I had scared him, but he didn't run away. He backed away to the bush and, once again, his beady black eyes and my inquisitive lavender ones connected.

Then, the bunny started shaking. I assumed that it was rabies, so I stood up and prepared to run away, but he didn't pounce. There was no thrashing. No foaming of the mouth. His whole body was shivering. Vibrating.

I am not even sure what exactly happened next, but I will try to explain it to the best of my abilities. The bunny's body was engulfed by a silvery wisp of light. It was too bright to have come from the tree tops, but it swam around the bunny's body like a snake at supersonic speed. The speed of the bunny's vibrations combined with the radiating like appeared to incite some sort of conformational change. Like a chemical reaction.

Then, the bunny was completely wrapped within the light and I couldn't see it anymore. The light grew larger, and larger, and larger until I towered over me. I was too bemused and too stubborn to move, so I stood in confusion and horror as the light slowed its circumvention around the body and dissipated. My eyes shot open as I looked upon what now stood in front of me.

A creature with knotted brown fur and small, pointed ears, and razor sharp teeth. It had claws several inches long extending from thick, strong hands. It was enormous to begin with, but was at least eleven feet tall when it stood on its hind legs.

I'm not sure how to explain what happened, but there was no way to deny what I was looking at.

I was faced with a brown bear.

Once it smelled my fear, it released a loud, reverberating roar.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

This made no sense. I couldn't be seeing something like this. It was impossible.

In place of the cute bunny that had originally halted my searched was now a huge bear, with steaming red eyes and teeth like knives. He gave a roar that was loud enough to shake branches off the trees. For a second, I was frozen in shock.

This couldn't be happening. It wasn't logical.

Whether or not I truly believed that it was a dream, I ran. My breathing became panting and my legs were quivering, but I ran like my life depended on it, because it _did_. The bear, while growling and groaning, lumbered heavily after me. I heard branches crack like twigs under its weight. Even though I had put a few yards between us by getting a head start, his ear-shattering roar still sent shivers up my spine.

I didn't know where I was going. I took whichever path I noticed that had the least obstacles, but still ended up having to leap over a few brilliantly-colored shrubs and duck under tree branches. Twigs and leaves clawed at my clothes and my face, but I ignored the pain and continued to run blindly. My pants quickened and I harshly cursed myself for never working out. Who knew that it could save your life? Adrenaline pulsed through my straining body and my veins were burning. I found refuge behind a tree with an enormous trunk. Although the bear could probably smell me and my sweat from a mile away, for some reason, I assumed that I was safe momentarily.

What was I to do? What does a human even _do_ in case of a bear attack? Was I supposed to make myself look bigger than him, like I'd seen in movies? I didn't have the _balls_ for that! My lungs were burning as well as my arm. The wicker basket had carved several scratches into my arm, which were insignificant injuries compared to _being clawed by a bear_.

There was a crack of a twig. My whole body stiffened. Cautiously, I held my breath and peeked around the tree which I soon realized was the dumbest thing I had ever done.

"ROAAAAAAARRRRRR!" A massive claw barely missed my face and, instead, tore the bark off the side of the tree that I had been using as a hiding spot. The wind from the swipe knocked me backwards and eventually, to the ground. I was frozen, my eyes glued to the creature's eyes, as it stood on its hind legs and bellowed. Its growl was loud enough to make the ground quiver.

In the bear's eyes, I saw the miserable and gruesome future that awaited me.

I was going to die, right?

The bear crashed back into the ground and headed for me. I only had a few seconds to act. My eyes were bulging and flooding with scared tears, so I felt around with my hand to find something—anything—to protect myself. I felt something sturdy beneath my fingers and I gripped it tightly. The bear had knocked a few of the tree's branches off with its enormous claws, so I held the ragged and blunt stick in both of my hands. The bear swerved upward, preparing to swoop down for the final blow and, suddenly, I knew what to do. I jabbed the stick toward the bear's large and unprotected belly. Blood spewed from its wound, and the bear yelped and thrust its head backwards in pain.

This was my chance. I dropped the stick, scrambled over twigs and my own feet, and ran as fast as my trembling legs could take me. I dodged trees that seemed to never end. The bear's roar of agony echoed behind me but, soon enough, I couldn't hear it at all. Had I really injured it so badly for it to make such sounds?

My lungs were burning, but I saw a light shine through the shrubbery. I could no longer hear the rustling of animals or the tricking of water; only my own coarse breathing and the painful pounding of my heart. _I wonder if I have hypertension. That would suck_.

I clenched my jaw as I neared the light, then jumped over a tree stump as I burst into the open.

The landscape inclined, creating a steep hill that I didn't notice until I was already barreling down it. I brought my hands to my face in order to protect it while my body was bombarded by rocks, twigs, and thick grasses from the hill. My body slammed downwards, starting a very unpleasant pattern for my fall. I bounced around haphazardly and I could feel my body cling tighter together, trying to block out the pain. I hit my head, my shoulders, my hips, my knees. The spinning left me dizzy and discombobulated. The world flipped upside-down, sideways, diagonal.

I knew that I had reached the bottom of the hill when my back slammed against a robust tree trunk. The picnic basket that had been rolling by my side slammed into my stomach. My breath left my body and, all at once, I began to feel the bruises that I had just been given. There were parts of me that were bruised, bleeding, and scratched. My clothes were rumpled and dirty, but they were the least of my problems. I was dizzy enough to puke.

"Dammit…" I mumbled as I wiped the blood off my right leg with my palm, which was already pooling into a horrible stain on my jeans.

A bear around here was rare; almost impossible. Even more impossible was someone coming in contact with it so close to a city park. Shouldn't there have been a warning on the news? Had I really…just escaped that? I plunged a stick into a bear's furry stomach—who the hell _does_ that? _How am I not_ dead_?_

_And what about Alex? Did something happen to him? _

Maybe I wasn't the only one the bear encountered.

_No. Don't even think about that_.

I clenched my teeth together, trying to ignore the pain_ everywhere_, and gripped the tree trunk to hoist myself up. When I put pressure on my leg, my knee buckled and I let out a muffled groan. I needed to do something about my leg, so I tried blotting at it with my shirt. I sat by the tree long enough to stop the bleeding, but the rest of my body was still aching. I didn't have the strength to move.

I realized that lying here while a crazy ass bear that could smell my blood was still on the loose was a bad idea. I grabbed the basket with an unsteady hand and thought of Alma. What would she say if she knew what I had just gone through?

I looked behind me and saw a small stream, barely twenty feet across, with small rapids and water more clear and pristine than bottled water. I remembered hearing rushing water when I was searching through the woods for Alex, so I decided to wander along the edge of this stream until, hopefully, I could return to him. I held my hand to my eyes, trying to shield them from the sun's reflection on the water's crystalline surface.

I walked for a long time. Maybe an hour. I saw no field of fox gloves or blankets or _people_. The only animals that I saw were the occasional squirrels and some wildly-colored insects. I was insanely tired, so I plopped down at the edge of the creek, removed my boots, rolled up my pants legs with a wince, and submerged my feet in the cold water. My body was initially shocked by the temperature, but it felt more refreshing as I relaxed. I cupped my hands together and used water to wash my wounded leg, which was still leaking a thin stream of blood.

I felt fatigued. I hadn't even realized how tired I was until my body burst forward in a desperate, involuntary response to keep me awake. Kind of like being in a really boring class, but being afraid to sleep because the teacher would chew you out if they saw your head on your desk. _Maybe I could get out of classes by claiming Post-Chased-By-A-Bear-And-Nearly-Killed stress disorder._

My eyes were dry and watery at the same time, so I was forced to rub them, which only made me feel even more tired. I was pretty sure that it was dangerous for a weak, injured person to sleep in a forest inhabited by deadly animals, but for once, I didn't listen to my own logic. I pulled my feet out of the water and curled up on the soft grass, deciding that I was even too tired to debate with myself what to do about my being tired. Yes, it was stupid, but it wasn't like _geniuses _had epiphanies, like the Big Bang Theory or _gravity,_ while they were half-asleep.

Nothing could hurt if I closed my eyes for…five minutes. _Ten_ minutes at the most.

My nap lasted about twelve minutes. A crash from down the river shook the ground and my eyes burst open. I clambered to my feet, feeling a new wave of epinephrine come rushing out from my adrenal glands—that sounded weird. Too technical. Anyway, my right hand plunged to the ground, hoping to find something that was either wide enough to cover my head, in case of falling shrapnel, or heavy enough to bash into a creature's skull, if need be.

A gigantic, blurry white mass rose from the shrubbery shadows and darted down the hill, only to stop and stand elegantly at the river's edge. It dove into the water like a submarine and, for a few moments, it actually disappeared beneath the sparkling rapids. On the other side of the riverbank, I saw it resurface, like the little mermaid emerging from the sea.

It wriggled off excess water from its slender body. Its long, silvery mane floated like smoke. Its white hair was sleek and glossy; its hooves were as shiny as pearls. Its tail, which was the same translucent silver as its mane, swished vehemently.

I lowered the rock and gasped as I recognized the beautiful creature.

A horse?

It let out a shrill whinny and nervously pawed at the dirt with its fore hoof. My intake of breath had probably startled it, so its eyes, two huge turquoise orbs shrouded in long lashes, focused in my direction and studied me from across the river.

The horse was probably harmless, granted that I didn't provoke it, so I was content with staring at it for a few enchanting seconds. I should have been more cautious, especially considering the 'bunny-to-bear' fiasco that I still didn't understand. Virginia wasn't exactly famous for its wild horses either, so I assumed that this was an escapee from someone's ranch. We stood awkwardly on our sides of the stream, studying each other with ferocity, until it released another whinny and disappeared into the woods. I was alone once again.

I didn't know what voodoo _shit _had come over me, but I urgently needed to follow it. I grabbed my belongings blindly and, as if by some 'miracle,' ignored my throbbing leg. I stared blankly into the trees on the opposite side of the river and, suddenly, I was wet with cold water up to my thighs. When I had made it across the river, somehow managing to keep my basket above the water at all times, I raced into the woods. It stood silently ahead of me, perched gracefully between two trees and precisely where there was an excellent source of sunlight. It seemed as though it had been waiting for me. However, when I tried to step forward, it bolted.

"Wait!" I shouted, stupidly chasing after it. What was I hoping for? That it would lead me back to Alex or some form of society? Maybe I was just lonely. Animals, especially dogs, always had miraculous effects on my attitude. I liked beautiful things. Flowers. Landscapes. Sunsets. And puppies made me go weak. Unfortunately, my interactive skills with humans were atrocious.

But that was nothing short of _obvious_. I had always been this way.

_Why?_

And really, this place, disregarding the bear, was the epitome of my preferences. Yet, why was I so anxious to return to society, where people scorned me, pitied me, and _refused_ to see me as an equal? All humans can ever do is act to someone else's disadvantage. Humans are creatures of taking and never giving. Of complaining, but never understanding. Of saying one thing, then meaning another. Of wanting and desiring trust, then betraying everyone that had once trusted them.

Why did I want to return to a place like _that_?

_Isn't this a little too philosophical to be contemplating while trying to_ save _my own_ life?

The horse and I fell into a rhythm. After a couple of seconds that it would gallop over bushes and through trees, the horse would come to a sudden stop and peek at me, teasing me. If it was able to talk, I knew that it would be saying, "Run faster, damn human!" _Why am I even following this damn thing? What am I doing?_

Somewhere among the trees was a rocky ledge, which the horse leaped down and disappeared into completely. I had to jump over the edge in order to follow it, which aggravated my injuries even more. The horse sank lower and lower into the ground and the stone wall on both sides of this path grew taller and taller. The horse turned a sharp corner but, when I did the same, I looked ahead of me and there was no horse.

I _knew _that I had seen it com this way. How could it have disappeared when the rock walls on either side of us were twenty feet tall? The path had stopped here, indicated by a large wall made of yellow and gray earth in front of me._ Great, that horse was just fucking with me. Now I'm gonna have to trek all the way back—_

The ground vanished beneath me.

I experience a millisecond of suspension until my stomach dropped. I felt a sudden gush of wind blow through my hair and I reached my hand out, trying to find an edge to hold on to. But the hole was huge and all of the edges were further than my arm could reach. I felt like my entire body didn't quite fall, but was _pulled_ downward.

I screamed louder than I ever had before.

I was enveloped by the ground. The hold above me closed up, so I was trapped in only thick, suffocating darkness.

****Holy crap! I'm sorry, we're late again! I promised that I wasn't going to do that! I know the next update will be quick though, because we've already written most of it. ****


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

I fell into utter darkness, grasping my basket as if it was going to save my life. For all I knew, this could have been a bottomless pit and I would fall until I landed at the floor of the Indian Ocean. What had happened? Where had the horse gone? What had I landed in? A trap?

Although I was under the insane impression that I would fall to my death in this hole, I did eventually land on something with a hard _crash_. My rear ached; it felt like I had fallen onto bumpy stone. I still couldn't see, but I knew that I was safely planted on something—

And then I began falling again, not free from the air, but down something smooth and slippery. Like a waterslide. The stone I had landed on tilted downwards and, all of a sudden, I was racing down this slide with amazing speed. I couldn't see, but I could feel the curves and twists and sudden lurches to the sides. I felt the back of my clothes getting wet from the water that I heard dripping down and around this stone slide. The stone was almost completely smooth and, if I wasn't so completely petrified and confused, I might have thought that such a situation was fun.

I saw a glimmer of light from a lower portion of the slide and reached for it, wondering if that was my way out. My way back to Alex. The ride came to an end soon after and I slammed into the ground, bouncing several times before landing painfully and awkwardly on my stomach. Water splashed around me, coating me even further.

My legs were shaking and my ass hurt like Hell as I clumsily stood up, probably looking like a baby lamb. My back was soaking wet and, even though this whole situation was complicated, the first thing that I thought was: _Alma's gonna be mad that I dirtied my new clothes._ I shook off my arms, which were coated in water darker and heavier than _any_ H₂0 I had ever encountered. It adhered to my skin and weighed me down, making my limbs sag and forcing me to arch my back forward. I tried to walk, but the slick liquid, which I now assumed was _not_ water, clung to me like jelly.

I dropped to my knees, too exhausted from my _endeavors_ to even support my own body. There was a large pond in front of me, which explained the wetness all over the floor and the puddle I had just plunged into. There were smaller ponds scattered around the center like rice patties, but all of them led to the center. A hole in the ceiling far above me let in a bright ray of light that placed a spot light on the main pond, as though it was a consecrated relic.

How far underground was I? That hole could have been 100 feet or 10 miles away. The cave was larger than a concert hall, with wide walls and a domed ceiling, so my footsteps and even my breaths echoed.

I had no idea where I was or how to get out. I sighed, lowering my head to my chest and on the verge of crying.

_Alex._

_Where are you?_

_Where am I?_

_I can't get out of here by myself._

_I'm so scared._

My wallowing was shattered by a slight breeze from my left. I felt my hair tremble gently and my skin prick. Wind meant that there was an opening, like a tunnel system. That meant that I could escape! What had I been so desperate for? I could get out of here by myself—

I opened my eyes, enthused by my epiphany, and faced the surface of the lake. My voice caught in my throat.

The reflection in the liquid was _not_ my face.

There instead was a slimmer face with angular cheekbones and pale blue skin. There were wide eyes, with oddly large turquoise irises and no pupils; this eerie appearance reminded me of an alien. From the scalp sprouted infinitely long, diaphanous white hair that spread throughout the lake like an organization of tree roots. Thin white lips mouthed something to me, but I was too shocked to think clearly.

Frightened, I swung at the face by smacking the surface of the water, which formed a ring of ripples. Once all of the ripples had dissipated, I noticed that the face had vanished as well.

Why had I seen something so crazy? Was I dehydrated? Exhausted? Was someone playing a trick on me?

The beautiful, peculiar face was gone, but I saw another object glittering beneath the surface. It could have been the sun from the opening in the ceiling, but it was_ iridescent_. It was definitely coming from the lake. I scooted closer once more with my eyes shut, still shivering with trepidation. I was greeted by my own reflection, which greatly settled my racing heart. The light loomed closer, as if the glimmering object was slowly floating to the surface. What was it? A flashlight that was left on? The batteries would have been ruined. Fluorescent light sticks? They still couldn't have sunk and _then_ floated.

Then again, what physical object_ did_ sink and then float?

The white light that emerged nearly blinded me. I peered through squinted lids, growing more and more curious as the object began to express a physical form. It was long and straight, with a golden hilt and a curved cross guard. The portion beyond the handle was about three feet long, but dreadfully corroded. As it came even closer, I recognized it.

An old, rusted sword.

It sat on the top of the water, defying all Biology, Chemistry, Physics, and_ logic_. What kind of place was this where _swords_ popped out of nowhere? And what was I supposed to do with it?

Take it?

It wasn't like anyone claimed it. I was in the middle of fucking underground cave! There probably wasn't a lost and found box waiting by the front office. I could take it, right? Just in case some other bear jumped out at me. I_ really_ had to report that to a park ranger or something.

I expected to reach into the liquid and feel nothing but the shame of having fallen for another illusion, but I did it anyway. My hand plunged into the dark, heavy, lukewarm water. My hand dug further into the lake, straining to move about the thick liquid. I touched what felt like the smooth metal of the hilt, wrapped my fingers around it, and pulled. My anti-athletic nature didn't help me with the strength portion of this feat, but the sword eventually broke the surface.

The force of that tug made me tumble backward, landing on my sore bottom and the sword clanged on the ground to my right. I picked up my prize and inspected it, feeling thoroughly dissatisfied. The weapon was what I had anticipated: a Scottish double-edged claymore sword with a blade of about three feet in length. The blade, although I could detect a hint of silver iron, was mostly covered by brown rust and green algae. The spacer between the hilt and the blade, which I think is referred to as the 'cross guard,' was shaped like a thick crescent moon. The hilt was covered in gold leaf and lathered with repoussé images of lions and phoenixes. I thought that those would make the handle difficult to grasp, but my hand fit along with those images perfectly as if they had been formed _around_ my hand. Well, it _would_ have been easier to hold if it wasn't so wet and grimy with age and exposure. I concluded that the first order of business was to escape this cave, find Alex, go home, clean the sword, and get it appreciated so that I could sell it at an auction.

I felt the breeze play with my hair once again. With a firm grasp on my sword, I headed toward the opening in the back wall, which was the source of the wind, as far as I could tell. I heard my footsteps echo for miles as I strode down the tunnel, twitching at every drop of water an every scuttling insect. For a while, there was no light. I took out my phone, which was thankfully spared from the water, and utilized the flashlight app. The wind grew stronger so, when I turned the last corner and saw a beam of light on the floor, I sprinted.

The cave exited into a random part of the forest. The trees were larger, more clumped together, and darker than those in the woods that Alex and I had eaten in. The trunks were so large that they could have surrounded the Pierces' dining room table. They must have been ancient. There was too much of an overbearing canopy that only a few rays of light could sneak through. The leaves and shrubs on the ground were odd colors, ranging from sun yellow to vibrant purple. The roots were sticking out from the soil like confused icicles. The vines that had entwined the other trees were hanging from the branches; I was tempted to swing on them.

I was now on my guard, shifting my eyes from left to right in search of danger. I figured that Alex would return to the fox glove meadow or the clearing in order to find me again, so I headed in what I _assumed _was the correct direction. My mind had no input as my feet blindly carried me into the trees. I smelled for the flowers and ran around, searching for an opening. A path. A sign. No luck. I was just as lost as I was an hour ago and I was going to need a freaking GPS just to find my way out of here.

I had been lugging both my basket and the sword for at least ten minutes before I gave up and tore my phone out of my pocket. I was relieved that I had charged it up before driving to the park. I pressed and held down the center button. "Siri, tell me how to get to the Portsmouth City Park." I leaned onto one side as the circle spinning, showing that Siri was processing my request.

She replied in her robotic voice, "I'm sorry, Sexy. I didn't catch that. Can you please say it again?"

_No living soul shall ever know that I programmed Siri to refer to me as 'Sexy.' _I spoke again with an irritating amount of annunciation. "How. Do. I. Get. To. Portsmouth. City. Park. From. Here?"

She deliberated, "I'm sorry, Sexy. I didn't catch that. Can you please say it again?"

What? She _always_ responded when I spoke like that.

I tried it again. She asked me to repeat it. I bit my lip.

Siri must have not been working because, not only could I not connect to any wifi, my phone also had no service.

I was stranded.

I would have to check the moss on trees and look for the North Star just to find my way out of here. Panicking, I considered shouting for help. Maybe a park ranger or an enamored couple nearby could hear me and offer assistance. So I did. I called "Help," "SOS," and other generic screams for several minutes. The only thing that responded to my voice was a flock of ravens that flew away the second I began shouting,

I heard a squawk from behind me. I roughly twisted around to find a stray raven, with shimmering black wings and beady green eyes, clutching to a branch. I stared at it curiously, "I don't suppose _you _know how I can get out of here." In my apparently delusional state, I half-expected the bird to transform into a smiling, transgendered toaster and start singing Aerosmith.

When it only squawked back, I took a sigh of relief.

I travelled through the thick forest, searching for the sound of trickling water. I remembered hearing it in the forest when Alex and I were still together, so I figured that, if I found that stream again, I could find my way back to the meadow. My phone was useless. GPS was useless. If I was forced to use my instincts, I was fucked.

I heard a bird call form my rear. I twisted around and raised the sword, unsure what exactly to do with it. I hoped that intimidation would suffice for whoever my follower was. I found the same raven on a branch above my head, its green eyes unwaveringly focused in my direction. I pouted, slightly embarrassed that a mere bird had made me nearly piss myself _twice_ now. "If you wanna keep following me, at least be useful!"

The raven was silent. I huffed and turned back once again and began walking at an increased pace. How lonely _was I_ that I was yelling at a _bird_?

Squawk.

"Listen, bird!" I burst, feeling a rare sudden and unnecessary flood of anger. I swung around with my sword at my side and my basket up, prepared to throw some fruit at this damn bird if he didn't bolt _now_.

Unexpectedly, I did not find one, but _two _green-eyed ravens staring at me from a high branch. Where had his comrade come from? I should have heard the flapping wings. The situation disturbed me, but I was too anxious and frazzled to care. I started to turn when I _did_ hear the fluttering of wings. Another bird joined them on the branch. Then another. Then another. All with the same green eyes.

My hypothesis was: _If I'm not looking at them, they don't exist. I'm delusional. I'm dehydrated. I'm hallucinating._

I had just imagined that Alex had vanished.

I had just imagined that it was late March, yet every plant in the vicinity was in full bloom.

I had just imagined that an adorable bunny had transmuted into a gruesome bear.

I had just imaged that my watch read 7:30, even though the beating sun was nowhere near setting.

And I was just imagining the hundreds of ravens gathering on tree branches, all glaring directly at me.

I sprinted, my feet reacting before I had the chance to shout. My ankles and my knees hurt from my previous fall and the pressure and the crunching of twigs beneath my feet. I looked ahead, hoping that I could break through the trees and wake up from this nightmare.

The flapping of thousands of wings sounded like a rushing waterfall. A flurry of bees. A rocket taking off. I visualized them flying closer, leaning in to take a bite. I had seen that damn Alfred Hitchcock movie. If that fictional depiction of a bird attack was in any way accurate or realistic, which my muddled mind was beginning to consider, I knew how this would end. If I were not 90% positive that this was a depression and stress-induced hallucination, I would have given up and accepted my fate a long time ago.

I felt one raven nip at my shoulder and another tug on a clump of my hair. Whether from the pain or the fear, I started crying.

I would die in this hallucination alone. Like I was always meant to.

Like I had always wanted.

A group of ravens ran into my back, causing me to stumble and crash into the ground. I landed on my right shoulder and my head whipped around, making a hideous cracking noise as it collided with the ground. My vision was clouded by darkness.

I had always tried to be tough, but I was so useless. I was only a child.

_Where are you…_

_Mom?_


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

When I came to, it was still bright outside. My watch read 8:20, which made no sense, but I had stopped questioning it. My head ached. My shoulder was bruised. My eyesight was splotchy. My ears were ringing. I was dizzy. _Is this what it's like to pass out?_

I rubbed my head, trying to recall what happened before I fell—No. I was _pushed_, right? I remembered the flock of birds, the sound of their beating wings, the feeling of their beaks in my hair. I shivered. _What happened to me after that? _I peered around, spotting the same giant trees and strange roots and odd-colored bushes that were present before I was knocked out. As far as I could tell, I wasn't injured or _eaten_, but I was still lost. I wasn't with Alex, making dinner with Alma, listening to the brothers' fight over bathroom privileges and Ryan's open displays of affection with the tattooed girl. I wasn't in that warm, beautiful house. Although this part of the park was bright and gorgeous, it was unmanaged, mysterious, and dangerous.

It wasn't home.

I shut my eyes tight and moved my eyeballs, trying to correct my contacts. When I opened my eyes—

There was a guy in front of me.

I leapt backward, releasing a squeal. The stranger giggled at my reaction. How _dare_ he laugh at me after making my heart skip a whole _measure_?

Where had he come from?

The guy was wearing tight beige pants tucked inside brown horse riding boots. His olive green shirt was a light fabric with a very deep-v neckline. My eyes were immediately drawn to his spiky, fiery red hair, which was short and disheveled. Looking at his long face, straight chin, and defined facial structure, I identified him as being around my age, if not a bit older. He still seemed to have the enthusiasm and playfulness of a child; even his laugh was light and boy-ish.

I was enchanted by his eyes. His sleek, cat-like eyes were sharp and outlined with thick lashes. His irises were the most vibrant emerald green I had ever seen. They seemed familiar, but my brain hurt when I tried to recall why.

"You okay, kid?" He asked, and I hated myself for the way my heart beat at the sound of his strong yet gentle voice.

Then, his words registered, "I'm _not_ a kid. I'm eighteen years old." I spouted, unwilling to hear anyone refer to me as something so preposterous.

His eyes opened wide, surprised at the venom in my voice. "Okay! Got it! Touchy, touchy~."

The air had cooled off a little bit, but I shivered from the wetness on my back. I found my arm over my picnic basket, which was in better condition than me. I could still feel the bruises on my skin and the cut on my leg, but I wasn't about to admit that in front of a potentially hostile stranger. Where had the birds gone? Had they all disappeared after attacking me? I was never going to be able to tolerate those _rats with wings _ever again.

I couldn't deny that finding another human was a huge relief, but I was too irritable for normal conversation. I was a bit ashamed about my whining, but I was more worried about my head. I had hit it pretty hard earlier. "Hey, could you give me a concussion test?"

The guy, who had been staring at me with his eyebrows raised, sputtered, "Um…wh-what?"

"When I fell, I hit my head." I explained emotionlessly. "When I woke up, I was dizzy and my vision was unclear. Can you _do _a concussion test?"

He ruffled his shining red hair and smiled wryly. "I'm actually _not _a nurse, so no. I don't know how to do one."

"Well, what you should do," I faced him and began listing some components of the test by wagging my fingers. Well, at least, all of the ones that I could remember when my classmate got a concussion from a soccer ball during Gym in tenth grade. "You need to ask me basic questions, like my name, grade, address, home phone number, first bell teacher's name, things about my school or town, et cetera. I think this is to test whether there's a problem with my memory and speech comprehension from bruising on the frontal lobe. Although, I hit my head on the side, which would probably bruise the temporal lobe. Wait, but I 'm having problem with equilibrium too, which is the cerebellum, isn't it? I just learned this in AP Bio. Why can't I remember anything—?"

He placed his hand, which was strangely clean with long pale fingers, in front of my face to stop me. "Since you're telling me how to test for a concussion, I assuming that you don't have one."

I bit my lip, not willing to let his flippancy leave me with an injury that could kill me. "Come on. Just a few questions." I shifted a bit, suddenly feeling uncomfortable. I could feel my clothes and thick hair sticking to the sweat on my skin. I must have looked _fantastic._

He grinned, but this one was more relaxed and innocent than his previous expressions. "Fine. I'll help you out, kid."

I pouted as he readjusted himself on the soft grass. I grabbed my basket, which was in tact besides a few dents and some smashed sandwiches. Twitching, I scanned my surroundings. I was no longer among the trees, lying on twigs, but on plain grass on the outskirts of the trees. How had I gotten here? Had this guy moved my unconscious body? _Ugh. Creepy. Don't even think about that._

"Okay, go!" I ordered.

He sat cross-legged and leaned closer, raising a single eyebrow. "What is your hometown?"

"Chesapeake, Virginia." I almost giggled. He was using the deep voice and vexing inclination of a game show host.

"How old are you?"

"Eighteen."

"What level of schooling are you in?"

"High school. Twelfth grade."

"What are your parents' names?"

I choked, then grumbled, "Russell and Kelly."

"What is _your _name?"

"Silvia Scott. Hm?"

I stared down curiously at his hand, which was extended in my direction. "Nice ta meet you, Silvia. I'm Puck." His face was beaming with a friendly smile and, for a moment, I let down my guard. Warily, I extended my hand to meet his. He was suspicious, but charming enough. I wasn't sure what to say past my flushing face. He was the first guy my age besides Alex that I had spoken to in a long time.

Just because I didn't have a concussion didn't mean that I was totally coherent. I had no idea where I was. My GPS wasn't working. My phone had no service. And every time I called for help, I was attacked by weird, shape-shifting, propagating monsters.

"So," Puck hummed while running his fingers along the twisted bundles of my basket's handle. As another gale went by, I caught his scent: a strange mix of crumpled leaves, a tinge of coppery rain, and masculine musk. Didn't guys his age normally wear, like, buckets of Axe? "What brings you to my part of the woods, Silvia?"

Maybe I shouldn't have told him my name. "My friend brought me out here for a picnic, hence the basket, but he disappeared on me." I squeezed my vest, finally realizing the true gravity of my situation. "He's probably lost or hurt and I have _no_ idea how to find him."

Puck leaned in and placed his elbows on his knees, revealing a broad chest beneath that deep-V. His lips curled into a suggestive smirk. "You came with a guy?"

"_Yes_, I came with a _guy_." I spat, "He's my best friend. It's worrying me to death…"

When my voice cracked, it seemed like he became more sympathetic. The whole world was quiet as I was lost in anxious illusions, trying to fight back tears. I stared at my boots; the shiny shoes that were once new and tight were now ripped, scratched, and muddy. I poked my finger through a hole in my silky purple shirt. My hair shrouded my eyes. How had things become so bad?

"If you were here for a picnic…" He began and, even though I was looking at an overgrown blue bush and not his face, I heard shuffling. "…then why do you have this?"

My head shot up and my eyes fell onto the grimy, rusty sword that I had swiped from the cave, the hilt sparkling from the sunlight. Puck held it straight up, studying it with his hand on his chin and making annoying "Hmm," sounds. "This is quite the saber you got here, kid. I'm _guessing_ you weren't using it to chop up strawberries."

"Give it back!" I lunged, feeling overly protective of my discovery. I wasn't going to let this punk steal the only weapon I had to defend myself. My hand reached for his olive green shirt, intending to grab his collar and intimidate him like some mafioso, but I ended up grabbing only air. I clenched my fist—

But he wasn't there. A leaf swung in the air and I blinked dumbly.

"Tell me," I jumped as I heard his deep voice behind me. I turned around to see him leaning against a tree trunk, flawlessly balancing the sword on his index finger.

How had he moved so quickly?

He took his green eyes off the sword and, although they had been bright with mocking laughter a moment ago, they were now dark with suspicion and contempt. "Why would a _human_ like you need such a sword? Even if it's old, it's a really decorative claymore. If you cleaned it off, it'd be fit for a king. _Wherever_ did you find it?"

I couldn't break the tense connection between our glares, no matter how unsettling this was. I didn't want to tell him that I had stolen the sword, nor that I had no idea how to use it. Anyone besides Alex was an untrustworthy enemy. But for some reason, despite my stubborn determination, my mouth didn't listen. "I found it in the water in some underground cave only a little while ago. I don't know whose it is, where it came from, or how to use it." I clenched my jaw, screaming at myself for telling such delicate information to a stranger. _What did I do? That wasn't my intention! Why did I say that?_

He closed his eyes and grinned arrogantly. _Damn him._ "I appreciate your honesty."

He caught my sword in his palm and chucked it in my direction. It clattered to the ground and I bolted, quickly covering it when my foot before he could do that magical vanishing act again and steal it back.

"I just had to ensure that you really are as _weak _as you look." He shrugged as he stuffed his hands in his pockets, looking like a perfect douche. Now that I was standing up I started to feel my bruises once again. I winced, only verifying his claim.

I glared at him harshly and, when our eyes met, his eyebrows shot up. "_Fuck_ you! What the hell do _you_ know? And what did you mean by a "human like"—You know _what_? I don't _give_ a shit!" I turned on one heel back to my basket after gruffly picking up my sword. I clamored into the forest, hesitant of its darkness, but too stubborn to return to the clearing. I was instantly covered by trees as tall as skyscrapers. I ran through a pink bush that was full of thorns, but I was too resolutely dedicated to my pitiful exit that I didn't acknowledge the pain.

"Wait!" The red-haired bastard shouted after me, but I fled even faster. He called a few more times, but I never stopped. Eventually, he caught up to me with a firm hand on my shoulder and forced me to turn around. His eyes were extremely distressed, perfectly complimenting the pattern of wrinkles on his forehead.

"You're lost, right? It's not very gentlemanly to ignore a damsel in distress. Let me help you." He offered, giving me a soothing smile and a jovial wink, to which I grimaced. This dude was probably a master at fooling people, but I would not give in so easily. The words 'let me help you' held bad memories for me. Hearing them automatically set off a signal in my brain to refuse and retreat.

The more he spoke, the more I realized that he was the type of charismatic, immature, willful person _that I hated_.

I groaned, "I guess I have to speak _louder _so that you can hear me through all the _dye _in your hair." Mentioning that was a mistake because, then, I thought about that glorious red hair of his, sparkling from the dappled sunlight and forming waves over his emerald eyes. _How come all of the cute guys had to be dicks? Wait, what the hell am I thinking about?_ "I don't need your _help_! I can find my own way back."

"Oh, yeah? Then what direction are you heading in?" He asked with a spiteful smirk.

I felt my face flush, entirely unsure how to deal with someone so annoying. Normally, I would not even bother conversing with someone like him: his type always had a bunch of friends and girls fawning over him like bees around honey. I wasn't accustomed to any sort of interaction with my own age group, especially with _that type_. I jabbed my finger to my right, toward a tree covered with a golden fungus, and blurt out, "That way! I'm going that way."

"Well, that makes it easier to follow you." He folded his tanned arms over his wrinkled shirt, flashing me an undaunted grin. _Damn him._ I turned around, keeping my sword and basket flush with my body. Who knew what kind of jokes he was going to pull on me next?

If I was able to remember anything about that field, it could help me determine where to go. The sun wouldn't help in determining direction because it seemed to be on its own schedule, despite what my watch claimed. I had not seen one cloud since lunch nor encountered any civilization since I arrived, even though I knew that the park was adjacent to a camping ground. This place made no sense.

I decided not to speak to Puck. He had a way of twisting my words around, so I refused to supply him with any material. Even though I tried to completely ignore his existence, but he was devoted to following me. When I struggled through a maze of spiky vines, he followed me. When I hopped over the ten-foot trunk of a damp fallen tree, he followed me. Even when I tried to take the most convoluted route possible to avoid him, he followed me. Throughout all of that, he attempted to initiate conversation with the tenacity and energy of a puppy. _What is his deal?_

After half-an-hour, I tripped over a stump root, only to be saved from an embarrassingly awkward fall by Puck's quick reflexes. Because of my social impotence, the only thing that I was able to mutter was "Good job," before wrestling away from his arms. He started to lecture me about my impoliteness, but I ignored the hypocrite.

Then, my nose locked onto a familiar scent. One that reminded me of Alma's kitchen, the Norfolk Botanical Gardens, and of all the Yankee Candles combined. I pushed away a branch and found myself under a canopy of bright pink, cupped flowers. _Fox Gloves!_ I lit up. I skipped through the trees, aware that this field stretched for miles, but excited that I was significantly closer to finding Alex.

Puck followed surely after me, screaming to get my attention. "Wait, kid! Where do'ya think you're going?"

I closed my eyes and felt smooth petals glide by my cheeks. My eyes were filled with beautiful flowers and the sky above me was bright and clear. My body and my clothes were dirty, but this field revived me. I really had an affinity for beautiful things.

"Wait!" Puck's hand gripped my arm, forcing me to roughly halt. I refused to look at him. _How mature of you, Silvia._ "Are you_ sure_ this is the right place? Is this where you came in?"

"Um, yeah?" _'Came in?' Came in where? To the park? To the field?_

He nodded with an uncharacteristically serious look on his slender face. I could tell by the crease of his sleek red eyebrows and the unnatural frown that covered his face that he was concerned. Although I was slightly unnerved, he dragged me along by my arm and I mindlessly trailed along, wondering where his frightening resoluteness had come from.

My heart surged when I felt a sudden incline and began to hope that this—_this_—was the first hill we had traveled over when entering the field. Where I had seen it open up before me. Once I stepped over this hill, I should have been able to see the pond, the benches, the playground, the sickeningly adorable couples, the hearing-impaired grandparents who fed the birds, no matter how many obnoxious mothers complained. Puck brushed away the last row of flowers. My heart caught in my throat—

Then fell to the pit of my stomach.

There were no people over the peak of this hill. There were no noises besides the chirping of unusual birds and the gentle hum of the breeze. Only more fox gloves. The field continued for at least another half-mile, then was cut off by a line of trees. The field wasn't open-ended, but in a circle.

I was _sure_ that this was the hill. This didn't make any sense.

_Where did I come in? Aren't we at the right place? _

I _hated _not knowing.

I stared, but the puzzle pieces in my head, rather than connecting, were being thrown further apart. I had at least an _idea_ of my location a moment ago, but _now_, I might as well have been in Uzbekistan. Where could I go? What could I do?

_Alex, where have you taken me?_

"Silvia," Puck began softly. I was startled and, even though I was facing in his direction, I was looking past him. The questions that had been building up inside of me for hours threaten to leak out. Rather, _explode _out of me. "You really don't know where you are, do you?"

I shook my head numbly. I suddenly felt like crying.

I hated not knowing, but I really didn't know anything.

Puck sighed and rubbed his fingers across his forehead. His perfect lips pursed. "Looks like your trod disappeared. They do that a lot. Damn, complicated…Anyway, it sucks, but there's nothing you can do." He obviously avoided my eyes by reverted his attention to the extremely interesting leaf bits on the soles of his boots.

Why was he making it sound so hopeless?

"Wh-what do you mean 'trod?' What's a 'trod?'" I grit my teeth, unable to contain my overflowing anger any longer. I was angry at my pain and this situation and _him_. "Why not, instead of being such a smartass_ punk_, you actually _explain _to me what the hell is going on?"

He kept a complacent frown, but his eyes were detached. "What the hell are you yelling at _me_ for? It's not necessarily a cakewalk to find a trod, you know. If you wanna know so badly, why don't you ask the guy that you came here with?"

"If I could, I would! Dumbass!"

"So, am I a smartass or a dumbass?"

"Alex isn't the suspicious one here! He had no idea what was going on!"

Puck scoffed, "You really _are_ a kid."

I was trembling, but stopped myself from saying anything else potentially embarrassing. How rude could he be? Here I was, having a panic attack, and he was treating me like some dumb kid who had just been pushed down on the playground. I think he noticed my irritation or was worried about the unnatural color filling my cheeks, so he sighed in submission.

"Okay, I went a little too far with that." He grumbled while running his fingers through his hair. Was that his habit? He stood with his weight on one hip, looking stubborn but ashamed. As he should have been. "Normally, I'm not the bad guy. I've just been kind of angry lately—"

"Apology _not_ accepted."

"I wasn't apologizing."

Tsk. Such an attitude.

Then again, I wasn't acting very mature either, was I?

I massaged my forehead, feeling the formation of a stress headache. Arguing with Puck would not make me feel more confident about my situation. I would have to be a huge ignoramus to piss off the first person I had seen in hours who could possibly _help_ me. "Okay, let's both clam down and then I'll only ask you a few questions. I swear."

Puck nodded.

"This place is…an anomaly? I don't know. I've been attacked by things I don't even understand. I found this sword, which is also really weird, and I fell into a cave and, for a park, it's dangerous not to warn guests about that. But, then again, I don't think I'm in the park anymore. I just wanna know where I am. It doesn't have to make sense. Can you give me that much?"

He stood up straight but lowered his head. He was probably taller than Alex. I caught a whiff of his scent once again, growing dizzy from it. Had it grown stronger? What exactly was this smell? He smirked, "You're not gonna believe me."

"Don't tell me what I can and can't do."

"You are one sassy chick, huh? It makes me not want to tell you anything…"

"Okay, I'll shut up!" Why was I talking so much anyway? And with such an attitude! The more I tried to defend my claim of being an adult, the more I ended up sounding like a defiant teenager.

He twirled a foxglove between his fingers, obviously stalling and making me grow more impatient. A breeze flipped his hair around his eyes and he looked right into mine. His emerald irises burned holes through me. "Well, Dorothy, we're definitely not in Kansas anymore.

"This place is called the NeverNever. And trust me, it's no park."

****A.N. I can't believe I typed all of this up instead of getting ready for prom tonight. I have a problem. -_-**

**But anyway, we want to give a GINORMOUS thank you to Michelle Dominado who made that FANTASTIC picture that we set as our profile picture. She modeled it after Silvia at our request and she really did an amazing job. All rights go to her and WE GIVE HER THANKS TIMES LIKE A BILLION!****


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

"Daddy, can you tell me a bedtime story?"

When I was a toddler, I _still _never believed a word out of my father's mouth. Even so, he told a damn good bedtime story. He would perch me up on his knee as we both sat on my bed, facing outside my windows. He would tickle me ferociously and create different voices to tell the stories. They would be about dragons, talking trees, people made of flowers, and kingdoms underground. I indulged in these stories every night, and perhaps the overexposure to these fantasies contributed to my eventual bitterness. I don't remember too much from that early in my life, but I could recall one thing that my father said that had always bothered me.

"Daddy, these stories are fake, right?"

"Silvie-baby, what makes you think that?"

"_I've_ never seen any dragons or talking trees or people made of plants."

"Just because you can't see something doesn't mean that it's not real."

I stopped, puzzled. "But mommy's real, and I can see her. And my bed's real, and I can see it." I know that this is an immature rationalization, but bear in mind: I was about three or four years old at the time.

"Well, the air's real, too. Can you see the air?"

Pause. I had been out-rationalized, possibly for the first and last time ever. "Ah…no."

"And love," My father cooed while ruffling his hand around my thick, choppy hair. "Love is real, but you can't see that." Before my father went crazy, he was like a walking Hallmark card. My still-pure mind found this unscrupulously cheesy statement funny.

"Well, if these people are real, where do they live? Everyone has to live _somewhere_." Technically, that's not true. I didn't know what hermits, nomads, and gypsies were, at the time.

"They live in a fantastic place called the NeverNever. It's full of people like this and they're always having _awesome_ adventures." He began bouncing his leg, which he normally did when we were reaching the climax of the story.

I gasped from excitement, "Can I go visit, daddy? I wanna have cool 'adventures,' too!"

My father never answered my question. He gazed at me with a smile, but the warmth in his eyes had been replaced with cold, empty silence. He finished the story and, after that, I never again asked to visit that magical place from an awful fear of being spanked.

I only remembered this incident after my father's breakdown five years ago. Until then, I hadn't the slightest idea why he was so frustrated with my question. It was because what he wanted, more than _anything_ in the world, was to visit that place once again. Now, while he was locked away in a mental institution, I was possibly visiting the place he had always been seeking.

I didn't understand then, but now I was forced to try. My eyes opened wide and, although the cold air stung, I couldn't move.

I was always the grounded person, with the organizational skill, efficiency, intelligence, and lack of emotion of a computer. Considering the psychological diseases that I had studied when my English class read _In Cold Blood_, I couldn't identify anything relating to 'believe one was in an entirely different world' except, perhaps, schizophrenia. Some psychological diseases are known to be hereditary, although I wasn't sure about schizophrenia. I had never shown any signs. My mom could vouch for me—

If only she were here.

She knew my ways. My patterns. My attentiveness. My maturity. My conscientiousness.

_Mom…_

_It's a little too late to mention, but dad might not be the only crazy one._

"No way," I muttered under my breath, finally returning to the present. Could I trust that this was true? Well, how many people could come up with the same ridiculous name for such a place? Instead of thinking too hard, should I just accept my insanity and immediately commit myself? I shook my head, unable to recover from my mental breakdown. "But, what does that mean?"

"What do _you_ mean?"

_That didn't help!_

"I mean, is this…a drug-induced coma-thing? I don't think I'm dreaming 'cause I'm normally not so…_conscious _when I'm…_dreaming_." I rambled, scratching my head. Okay, I must have been confused because that was a complete paradox. I felt the wires in my head spark, then fizzle and fail to connect.

Puck fixed his shirt and placed his hand in his pocket. I hated him for being so calm when I was a sweaty, incoherent mess. "You're a very logical person, aren't you?"

I raised an eyebrow. "Of course. I have a brain; shouldn't I use it?"

He chuckled, "Really? You've never seen random figures in your periphery? Shadows in your closet?" He had lowered his voice and wiggled his fingers, as though he were telling a ghost story by a campfire.

I didn't answer, believing my vexed glare to be sufficient.

He shrugged, finally starting to understand my harsh way of communicating. "Well, that makes sense, anyway. Fae gather around people who have imagination. If you have no imagination, fae wouldn't like to be around you; if you never see anything mysterious like a shadow in your closet, your imagination may only deteriorate further. It's a vicious cycle."

What kind of nonsense was this guy spouting now? What did imagination have anything to do with what does and doesn't exist? Was instant manifestation real, too? Next, he was gonna tell me that I could get out of here with positive visualization and some Buddhist chants.

The sky above us was clear and unspoiled, providing the perfect juxtaposition to my inner turmoil.

"You're _never_ gonna believe me."

"Try me!" I challenged, needing clarification for the preposterous ideas that my mind was creating, then rejecting, then regurgitating.

"You're probably thinking 'this doesn't make sense' or 'this guy's probably just a cosplayer who thinks he's funny,' right?" I didn't nod; he knew the answer. "And this may sound ridiculous, but I _swear_ that I'm telling the truth. And you shouldn't take that for granted, 'cause I _rarely _tell the truth.

"Magic is real here. Everything you've seen since you entered through the trod has been a creature that humans can only _imagine_. In fact, that's how they got here. All of the creatures in the fae exist because they spawned from human imagination. Magic and all that stuff _exists_ in the NeverNever."

If this had been any other moment in my life, I would have laughed in his face. Rolled my eyes. Something. But for some reason, no decent excuse came to mind. I could argue that magic wasn't real; it was meant as a plot twist in some Disney movie or a reason for some bitchy girls in Salem to get rid of a chick that they didn't like. But really, what proof did I have? Everything that had happened to me thus far was _peculiar_, to say the least. I was a logical person, but I wasn't the type to deny blatant evidence when it was staring me in the face.

"I still…don't…" I glued my eyes shut, wishing that I could just sleep and that this would all make sense in the morning.

Puck suddenly sparked up, "I'll show you." He weaseled his hand through a thick collection of foxgloves and grabbed the stem of the plant. The plant was already larger than normal, but even a non-magical foxglove would have been heavy and firmly adhered to the ground. He uprooted it with one tug.

The earth rumbled and roughly shifted backward. Startled by the movement, I shouted as I fell to my knees, my hands landed defensively in front of me. My hair flew in my face and I felt great pressure placed on my tens of bruises. My leg ached. The whole world shook and I wondered how Puck would explain the occurrence of an earthquake in this "magical" realm.

However, Puck was still standing, one hand on his hip and the other still grasping the foxglove. He wasn't just standing, but _posing_. The feeling in my gut told me that he had something to do with this.

Even though the ground had been pulled from behind me, I felt the ground to my front begin to rise. I was suddenly at the apex of a hill, but the ground kept moving like a roller coaster. Like a wave. I started to feel sick. The hills were literally _rolling,_ yet we hadn't moved at all.

This was not an earthquake.

I gripped the earth and felt the soil seem into my palms and nails. Was _he _doing this? Was it _him_?

I grabbed my sword, preparing to threaten him if he didn't stop—

But I was slammed into the soil as the ground shifted back to normal. Puck let the flower drift to the ground, an arrogant smirk plastered on his face. I grimaced. How come he was unaffected? Had he really just done that? Could he have been telling the truth?

"Thou hast been exposed to my awesome power!" Puck gestured to me with an open hand, a wide stance, and an even wider smile. "Bow before me: the ruler of the NeverNever!"

"I have a feeling that's a lie." I grumbled while reaching for his outstretched hand. He lifted me up in one swoop, even though he had taken such a dainty hold on my wrist. Strength didn't necessarily denote magical ability, though.

"Your _feeling_…would be correct."

"But what am I supposed to do? If I accept that this really is a different…_plane of existence_, then how am I supposed to figure out how to get back?" This land of fae from my father's stories was dangerous and constantly changing. It made some kind of twisted sense that my "trod" had disappeared, even though I had only entered through it a few hours before. I didn't know exactly the physics involved with my presence here, but I wanted to leave now. "Is there, like, a library around here or something that I could research in?"

He literally died with laughter. He keeled over and everything, suffering through fits of giggles and tears clouding his eyes. His laughter was loud enough to shake the ground and I felt my face become flushed with an alien mix of embarrassment and resentment. "A_ library_? _Here_? Yeah, we got one! It's right next to the McDonalds and the shopping mall!" He erupted into another laugh. I was always a person who could dish sarcasm, but never take it.

Well, if he was such a fantastic magical being, then he should've known a way out, right? Another 'trod'? He didn't seem like the sharpest knife in the drawer, but he was my only hope, no matter how utterly hopeless my current situation seemed. Besides, in this world where, apparently, dragons and ogres and evil fae ran rampant, the fact that he hadn't killed me yet was a good sign. I wasn't mentally prepared to accept everything he was telling me, but I would at least have to pretend like I did in order to receive his help.

"Puck!" I practically screamed, my voice echoing throughout the field, shattering the quiet. The breeze had slowed down dramatically, so he and I were wrapped in complete silence. He jumped, taken aback by my volume. "You know a way out, right?"

He regained composure flawlessly. "_Perhaps_. Finding another trod _will _be difficult, you know. They really do move all the time."

"Well, what else am I supposed to do?" I clenched my fists, preparing to say something that had never passed my lips before. I bared my teeth, instinctually trying to block these words from escaping. Plea—. I need your he—.

_Why do I have to humiliate myself like this? Why does nothing good ever happen to me, even though I try so hard?_

The world hated me long before I _ever _started hating _it._

Puck pushed aside the plant of warm purple foxgloves that was separating us and closed our distance. I flinched away from his encroaching form, still unwilling to trust him or _any male_, but I couldn't escape fast enough. He leaned closer to me, his mouth level with my neck. The feeling of his breath on my skin was neither sickening, nor pleasant. He peered up at me with a look that could be easily mistaken for a sensual leer or a predator stalking its prey. "Hmm? I don't know. What _is_ the little human to do?"

_Damn him._

I mustered up the courage to speak, which was difficult enough to do without simultaneously attempting to lower my heart rate in fear of Puck being able to hear it. I heard him make strange sounds as his chin and fingers moved closer to my shoulder. I winced.

"Can you…help me find a trod?" I stammered, horrified when my voice cracked. I tried to forge a smile, despite the churning in my stomach. "I really want to get home and, as much as I hate to admit it, you're my only hope. _Please,_ help me find a trod."

In an instant, after saying those few short words, it seemed as though _I_ had cast a spell on _him_. His back straightened out and the hand that had been skimming my shoulder swung in mid-air; his eyes were wide with disbelief. His mouth was propped open dumbly, like a middle school boy who just got to peek into the girls' locker room.

But, once again, I only had a moment to gape at this face and make snide comments about how ridiculous he looked before he had returned to normal. "You want my help, huh? Well, I suppose I can't refuse. It's the first time in a really, really, really, _really_ long time that I've received a request." He stuck his finger gruffly into my face, instantly making me cross my eyes. "I will, however, expect equal repayment!"

"Okay! Got it. Got it." I rolled my eyes, wondering why he was being so intense over this simple exchange of words. Did it make any difference whether or not I made a "request"? He was gonna help me out anyway, right? In order to be a good, upstanding fae citizen?

He squinted and his hand reached for my shoulder. Now that he stood closer, I noticed more detail to his clothing and him. He was statuesque, like a Lysippos sculpture, but moved as fluidly as a cat. Despite this mature form, his green shirt was made of rough cotton with strings sticking out. His beige pants were made of a material somewhere between cotton and polyester. They fit him like tight, straight-fit khakis.

I smelled that mixture of leaves, copper, and musk once again, so I concluded that that smell definitely belonged to him. I only wished that I didn't like it so much.

"You're lucky that you slipped with me, a fae that happens to _like_ humans. But I warn you: don't say 'Please,' 'thank you,' or 'I'm sorry' to _anyone_ else."

_The fuck?_ "Why not?"

"Because those apologetic phrases denote a mistake on your part that _all_ fae will expect repayment for. Fae take promises like that_ very_ seriously." He stressed as his grip on my shoulder became almost uncomfortably tight. The wind picked up with a gust that nearly knocked me off my feet, as if it was meant to enhance the dramatics that Puck was trying to convey. I should have been blocked from the wind by the gigantic flowers, but my hair whipped around my face, some of it landing in my open mouth. "If you express gratitude with words like those, you could be betting your life, depending on how much of a benefit that fae thinks that they were to you. Be. Careful."

"Okay. I shouldn't be polite. Got it. But…" I was the one to move closer this time, not for any purpose besides intimidation. "How do I know that I haven't bet my life by making a promise with you?"

He grinned again, with squinted eyes and dimples so cute that they should have been criminal. He looked more natural with this mysterious smile and cat-like leer than he did with a straight, serious face. "I told you. I _like _humans."


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

"Where are we heading, exactly?" I asked Puck, who was several feet ahead of me, maneuvering through the woods like a professional. Meanwhile, my voice was quivering, my limbs were aching, my legs were buckling, and I was struggling to protect myself from getting branch-slapped.

_Did I really just think that? I am _not_ in my right mind._

I don't know for how long we walked, but I released a great sigh when, over the tree canopy, I watched the persistent sun finally start to lower behind the clouds. Puck chatted away for literally hours and I was somewhat flattered about how interested he seemed to be in the drab, awkward me. As much as I wanted to keep up with his fast-paced conversation, I constantly drifted into my own thoughts. Even though this hurricane of words was drowning my exhausted brain, I was somewhat glad for Puck's company.

"_All_ shall be revealed soon, young one." He grinned at me widely and this excitement did not fade, even after he noticed my threatening glare. "I'm taking you to a friend's place. He's pretty freaking old, so hopefully, he'll where to find a trod."

I frowned. I was analytical enough to detect this verbal slip. "'Hopefully?' Listen, we had a deal. I don't quite understand the conditions, but it's binding, right?" He was the one who stressed that fae take promises as seriously as deals with the devil, but now he was treating it like a _scavenger hunt_. "If this is some sort of trick or you don't even know where you are going—"

"Wow. Thanks for the vote confidence, kid." Puck put a hand to his chest and feigned personal injury. "You know, I have years and years and _years _of experience on you, and yet you doubt me? How insolent!" Before I could retort with a snarky comment about his false perception of age, he turned on his heels, forging ahead.

I reached for his billowing green shirt, not wanting to lose him, but I quickly withdrew my hand. What was I reaching for? _That_ would have been embarrassing.

I shouldn't have placed so much trust in him. He could have been leading me into some sort of trap. Or to my death. But what else could I do? I didn't have the ingenuity or imagination to prepare an emergency escape plan.

For several minutes, both of us walked noiselessly, which was peaceful but strikingly eerie. The birds and creatures I had heard scuttling around when I was still searching alone had been much more boisterous. Now, it seemed as though the whole forest had grown silent. The only factor that had changed was _Puck._ Like the creatures and bushes and tress yielded, even _bowed,_ in his presence.

The setting sun painted the sky warm shades of pink, yellow, and orange, all of which would have reminded me of home _if_ my watch didn't read 3:20 in the morning. I would have stopped to admire it, but I had to whole-heartedly focus on keeping up with Puck, who had the long legs of a giraffe and the lung capacity of a hummingbird. He was light on his feet, able to scale large fallen trunks or rocks like they were twigs. I, on the other hand, only aggravated my injuries by following the path that he was trying to create for me.

When I realized that I was not only in pain from my bruises, but I had also reopened my leg wound and was basically hyperventilating, I gathered a frantic breath, "Can we take a break? My _everything_ is killing me." Without waiting for an answer, I threw myself over a giant rock, taking in several staggered breaths.

Puck laughed with an indiscernible tone between mocking and lightheartedness. He plopped down next to me on the soil, grinning from ear to ear. "How did you even last _this _long? I'm surprised you didn't get _killed _before I met up with you."

"I'm athletically-…impaired. And…in case you didn't notice…I'm kinda_ injured_." I mumbled between pants, moving my legs slowly so that I could peek at my cut. It had reopened and was gradually oozing thick red blood. I groaned. "And yeah… I'm surprised too. I wasted _all_ that energy getting_ chased _by…a stupid bear, and then that horse…came, and now _this_—"

"A bear?"

"Yes, a _bear_…Or a bunny." I closed my eyes as my head began to throb. I recalled that bear's thunderous footsteps. Its roar that made the ground shake. The feeling of wind as its sharp claws narrowly avoided permanently removing my face. I tried to find comfort in the soft, cold, wet soil, but my mind was frantic.

Puck looked at me quizzically, so I begrudgingly recanted the entire story. Starting from Alex and my entrance into the foxglove field until my clumsy fall and the imaginary feeling of birds tearing at my flesh. He listened attentively while I spoke and simultaneously wrapped my wound with napkins from my basket, but all of my fantastical and impossible stories didn't even faze him. I guess he _had_ to keep a straight face. If he were acting as a magical being that was used to this crazy place, then of _course_ my stories would sound like utterly normal occurrences.

He inspected his fingernails once I had finished, patiently waiting for me to regain my breath. "Sounds like you ran into a phouka. Those buggers are rarely in their true form; they can take any shape they want. It explains the transformation, but doesn't necessarily mean that it was trying to murder you. A lot of times, phoukas just like to fuck with people." His smile twisted upward into a suspicious grin. "Plus, I don't think they really have a _taste_ for human blood. Too sweet."

I twitched. Either he was an incredibly talented actor, or there was _no_ sense of a lie in what he had said. Once I was able to stand properly again, I followed behind him as swiftly as before, but my hesitation was almost tangible.

He stopped walking, leaving me to bump carelessly into his back. I looked up and was met directly by his deep green eyes. "And now _I'm_ fucking with you. Come _on_. You don't have to take everything so seriously."

I nodded, trying to calm my conflicted, racing heart. How was I supposed to trust this guy to help me return home when I couldn't even trust a word out of his mouth? He began striding through the forest once again with enough grace and assurance that you would think there was a pre-determined path. I charged in after him, but tried to hide my shame as I rammed directly into a spiky branch. I was not good at all in the wilderness, but I was not going to let him view me as any more of a burden than he already must have. I had never been a burden to_ anyone_, but out here, I was as helpless as a flightless, orphaned baby bird.

I grunted, feeling heavier and heavier with pain and exhaustion. Puck turned around to inspect what was wrong, then blanched when he saw my face. "What have you been _doing_? You have twice as many cuts as before! Okay, kid, we'll camp here for the night." Puck tore the basket and sword from my clammy hands, placing them delicately on the dirt next to a tree trunk that was as wide as a spaceship.

He put both hands on each of my shoulders and settled me down onto the ground slowly. I was so weak that it took me a second or so to generate the energy to actually move. _Dammit._ Why couldn't I have more stamina? Why did I have to be so wounded? Why was I so useless when it really counted?

Puck pointed a finger towards the woods, his eyes a strange combination of anxiety and relief. "I'm gonna go look for some firewood. Mind if I borrow your basket?" He held out his hand and I stared at him dubiously, "Don't worry, Red Riding Hood, you'll get in back. I need it to carry the wood."

"Fine…take it." I thrust the basket into his arms but kept my eyes turned away, wishing that he would quickly disappear so that he wouldn't see what I was about to do.

"Stay there, okay?" I heard him call from the distance. I waved at him.

Once I was sure that he was completely gone, I twisted to my left, gagged, and puked.

.

I wiped my mouth until I couldn't taste any more of the slimy, yellow liquid, a mess of which was collecting in a puddle on the side of an enormous boulder. I leaned my head against the spaceship-sized tree, trying to calm my body and somehow eradicate a headache. The sky above me grew darker and I could see the glow of the moon peeking over the treetops, like a firefly emerging from the grass. I was almost tempted to check the time when I remembered that it was pointless here in this alternate plane of reality. In the "NeverNever."

I already made a promise to myself that, if there was a slim chance that this was all completely legitimate and this NeverNever really did exist outside of my imagination, then I was going to go find my father, apologize to him, and release him from the mental health facility.

I wondered what my family would be like, then.

With my mother gone.

With my father returning after years of being separated from normal society.

At least I would be off to college in only a few months.

Suddenly, my thoughts were interrupted by a vicious growl from my stomach. This was understandable; I had just barfed up all of the sandwiches and salad I had eaten that day. I had been so absorbed in running for my life that the thought of food had slipped my mind. "I should have some sandwiches left over—"

_Oh, shit! That bastard has my basket._ Grumbling, I staggered up, using the sword as a balance, and surveyed the dirt clearing. Puck was nowhere in sight. The scenery was very familiar. Shrubs of all colors of the rainbow, trees with ridiculous sizes, random sprouts of grass and daffodils. I decided to return to the habits of the original humans: hunting and gathering. But I had to start quickly, before the sun set and I wouldn't even be able to see my hand in front of my face.

I limped over to a bush, trying to remember any random knowledge I had read on the internet that could help me discover a food source. The branches rubbed against my bruised and scratched leg, but my hunger outweighed the pain. I wasn't sure that I would even find anything, or that what I found wouldn't poison me, but just the idea of food in my mouth forced my legs to keep moving.

I had almost given up when I saw a grotesquely dark green shrub with slick, pointed leaves, tiny yellow flowers, and plump red berries. As I examined the plant, I haphazardly identified it as a species of Honeysuckle, whose berries were not poisonous in some rare cases. Saliva flooded my mouth as I carefully plucked a handful of berries, only growing more anxious to devour them as the liquid seeped from the berries onto my palm. I figured that Puck could help himself to the food in my basket, so I picked only enough for myself.

I lifted my handful of berries to my mouth, not caring about savoring any flavor, but a strong hand grabbed my wrist. Someone yanked my hand outward, causing me to spill my snack onto the ground.

"What the _fuck_?" I growled at Puck, who stood in front of me with a basket stuffed with wood and worry lines above his eyebrows.

"You _aren't _allowed to eat those." He shifted his grip on my hand and started drawing me back to the clearing where we had originally separated. _Who did he think he was? My fucking hygienist?_

"Why _not_?" I refuted, feeling my confusion and irritability and hunger pile up. "They're honeysuckle! It probably wasn't poisonous!"_ Did I just say 'probably?' Was I really about to eat a potentially poisonous berry? _I had no idea what I was thinking anymore.

"Because you _just can't_. Okay?" I couldn't see his face, but he had once again adopted that uncharacteristically harsh and threatening tone. As we reached the rock on which I had previously puked, I bit my lip, hoping that he wouldn't see or smell it. He dropped my hand and stomped right past the yellow puddle, completely ignoring it. I had a momentary sense of relief before I regained my passion to argue.

He began to arrange the wood in a square shape, then mumbled, "You can't eat any of the food here, even if it looks familiar to you. Just stick to the stuff from your basket. "

I sat down cross-legged a few feet away from him and reached my hand sneakily into the basket. I couldn't see exactly what I was reaching for because it had gotten so dark, but I felt a sandwich that was barely put together and swiftly pulled it out. I shoved it in my mouth with no complaints about the hardness of the bread. "What's wrong with the food here?"

"There's nothing wrong with the fruit. It's _you_. It's 'cause you're a human." He explained calmly as he dropped one of those strange leaves onto the stack of wood. Once the leaf grazed the top of the stack, a fire sparked and spread around the whole pile. The way that it clung to the wood and licked the fibers so smoothly made this flame seem incredibly _peculiar_. "The food here makes humans go loopy. It's like being on drugs. People do shit like swim in kelpie territory, jump out of trees, and strip off their clothes—Actually, you _should _go eat some, just get me a video camera first."

"Nice try."

Puck shrugged, hiding a boyish grin, "In terms of food, you should imagine the NeverNever like a rave. You _never_ drink an opened, unattended drink and you never _take _an open drink from anyone else."

"For a place that's supposed to based around magic, it seems like you're telling me more things that I _can't do_." I lowered my eyes at the mysterious flame, but felt my mouth form a cynical smirk. A wind rushed by, making sparks erupt from the fire. I shivered, feeling a very significant drop in the temperature now that the sun was almost completely beneath the horizon. Because of the fire, I could see Puck and about twenty feet to each side of us, but the forest suddenly took on a much darker atmosphere.

I drew closer to Puck so that we were almost shoulder-to-shoulder. My hands hovered over the fire for warmth, but I realized that much of the warmth wasn't coming from the fire. Puck had placed his arm around my shoulders, holding me to him and encasing me in his body heat. I couldn't analyze his actions. Was he pitying me? Was he cold, too? Why was he so easily hugging a stranger like this?

We sat in silence for a while. I munched while Puck regularly threw in stick to feed the fire. I was normally very comfortable with silence, but something _else _was bugging me about what he had said. "So, you never told me what a trod _is_." I glanced sideways at the red-headed man-child who was drawing an army of smiley faces in the dirt.

He cleared his throat and withdrew his hand from my shoulder. I instantly felt chillier, but was slightly relieved from the end of such an awkward situation. "A trod is a portal to the mortal world. Trods like to move around a lot based on where there's a lot of human imaginative activity, like in the basement of clubs, artists' studios, or children's closets. Some trods can remain in one area, but those are usually run by the courts."

"The courts?" _Now _what was he getting at?

"The NeverNever is controlled by three courts: The Seelie Court, The Unseelie Court, and the Iron Kingdom."

Okay,_ some_ form of government actually existed here, which made me feel minutely more secure. However, the titles not only sounded ridiculous, but also oddly _familiar_. How could that have been? Were they common settings in my father's bedtime stories?

Puck drew a huge circle in the dirt, then divided the circle into three sections. He explained the locations and basic geographical characteristics of each court. He didn't seem too fond of the ruler of the Unseelie Court: a lady by the name of Mab who "had a heart as cold as her kingdom." He somehow left out the name of the ruler of the Iron Kingdom, but I assumed that it wasn't _too_ important.

"And this-" He pointed a slender finger to the largest section of the makeshift map, "is the Seelie Court, ruled by Queen Titania and King Oberon."

Those _names_.

Why did _they_ sound familiar, too?

Why did I remember these names from my AP Literature test review sheets?

"W-_Wait_ a second," I stuttered, lifting my hand to gently massage the pulsing, aggravated vein behind my forehead. I_ must_ have been crazy. I had tried to open up to him this entire time, but this was _too_ implausible. "Oberon and Titania? Aren't they characters in the Shakespeare play, _A Midsummer's Night Dream_?"

Puck and my eyes met and, for a moment, I was completely swallowed by his emerald gaze. "I told you, didn't I? Everything in the NeverNever exists because it was originally imagined by a human. And I'm not too fond of that play. It doesn't necessarily depict one of my _best_ moments."

I paused, "What does it have to do with _y_—"

Like a wave, a mix of logical and illogical ideas hit me. King Oberon's jester. The one who mistakenly gave Lysander the potion that was meant for Demetrius. The character famous for sarcasm and pranks. The one who gives the final soliloquy in the play.

"If you pardon, we will mend:

"And, as I am an honest Puck—"

_Oh, dear God._

I had to take several breaths to ensure that, when I made this possibly humiliating statement, I wouldn't stutter. "You're…_that _Puck? Robin…Goodfellow?"

Puck didn't stand up, but bent over his mid-section and outstretched his arms, creating the perfect posture for a gallant bow. "_The _one and only."

But, this made no sense.

It couldn't be him! What was I thinking?

The outfit was stitched for cosplay. This whole story was an act. Those weird leaf tricks were exactly that: _tricks_. I was having a difficult enough time believing that he was a magical creature, let alone a magical creature that just _manifested_ from some long-dead playwright's faery tale.

I could literally feel the playful smirk and blood leave my face. What was I supposed to do? I had never felt so conflicted. My body, just like my mind, was also faced with opposing forces. While my skin was prickling with cold, my heart was pounding like a drum beat. I felt worse than when I had been starving. I was physically, emotionally, and mentally ill.

I stared at him and the only sound surrounding us was the call of a faraway bird and the crackling of the fire.

"Are you okay, kid?"

_No! Stop! If you're fictional, then stay fictional! Don't use that musical voice on me! I know what's real and what's not!_

"You look kinda pale. Maybe you should just go to sleep for the night." He suggested, looking genuinely concerned. He should have been more understanding, especially after dropping such a _bomb_ on me.

I was too weak to argue. Puc—No, Robin…no, _Puck_ managed to fabricate a bed out of twisted tree trunks and piles of leaves for me by using another one of his tricks. I was too tired to question his methods. I settled close to the fire and, after only lying down for a moment, I started to yawn. How could I become so comfortable, even though I was sleeping on the ground?

"I'm going to take first watch, and then I'll wake you up when it's your turn."

I was sure that he had said _something_ and that this was _probably_ what he had said, but I was too far gone to respond.

****AN: I am sooooo sorry that this is late! It's exam season, so we haven't exactly been on top of everything…or anything, really. We have most of the next chapter written already, so hopefully it won't take too long to update next time. After that, updates may lapse again because we'll have graduation to worry about and final papers and projects and a film…yeah. Please, keep reading, even if we're slow!** **


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

Puck and I slept on the ground that night. While my watch read 10:36 in the morning, the sun had only just set. I had stopped relying on it a long time ago. I was exhausted. I had been on my feet for twenty-four hours without the assistance of coffee or heroin. Once I lied down on those tree roots, I was out like a light. I was painfully aware that I was surrounded by mysterious and dangerous creatures in these mystical woods, but I had a trump card. If fae really did take promises seriously, like the oh-so-trustworthy Robin Goodfellow had told me, then he would definitely protect me. I didn't know by what illogical means he intended to go about that, but our promise would be void if I died before his friend could find a trod. Hopefully, whatever he intended for me to do to repay him was worth protecting me.

I made a pillow with my arm and tried to lean in the least-awkward way possible against the tree roots. It wasn't that cold outside. It felt like a humid summer night that was usually filled with the chlorine from swimming pools and the ashes from fireworks. I kept all of my clothes on, holding my basket and sword close to my body, fearing that someone as sneaky as Puck would sneak in during the night and snatch away the two things I had placed all of my hope for survival into.

The creatures were restless, but they didn't bother me in my deep sleep. A random breeze brushed by, rustling the leaves and making the hair on my arms stand up. Although I was uncomfortable against this tree and frightened from the bottom of my heart, I was _nothing _if not adaptable. Having to adapt to a household without a father. Having to adapt to living with an alcoholic mother. Having to move after my mother's death while simultaneously warding off mental deterioration. Yep, that was me. Adaptable.

Although, without Alex here, I barely felt like myself anymore.

And even though I took everything Puck said with a grain of salt and a skeptical grimace, I would be in even more danger if I defied him and mindlessly wandered around alone. He was supposed to be the mischievous, playful, trouble-maker lackey of Faery King Oberon, which was probably the _least-masculine_ thing I had ever heard in my life, so I didn't deny his claim that there really _were _more deadly things in these woods. What he referred to as the 'Wyldewood.'

The moments of relaxing before my mind shut down was spent relaying what I knew so far.

_Alex is gone. I'm lost. This place is dangerous. I found a sw__ord. Puck is 'the magical jester of Oberon, which I am 99% sure is a horrendous joke. This place may be the NeverNever that my father always talked about. I made a potentially awful deal with Puck. Fae take promises really seriously. Like _deal with the devil_ serious. Puck thinks that Alex actually knew where he was going, which is _ridiculous_. My entrance or trod or whatever disappeared and I have to find another one. Puck's friend probably knows where to find one. Puck is the infamous Robin Goodfellow from__ that dreadful farce of a play, _A Midsummer Night's Dream._ The food here is deadly for me to eat._

_Yeah, at this point, I'll stay clear of all these potential dangers, but I only trust Puck about as far as I can throw him._

"Hey, are you awake?" Puck purred, his soft lips pressed against my left ear.

I shot up and covered that ear with my palm, feeling my cheeks grow hot. "Well, _now_ I am! God dammit! Don't _do _that!" I screamed as quietly as I could, but unfortunately, it escaped sounding like a hoarse whimper.

He gave me an arrogant half-smile, "_Someone_ has very sensitive ears~. Or is it 'cause it's _my_ voi—ow!" I had jabbed him in the arm with my elbow, resorting to violence, as always. My foot was aimed at his crotch in case he continued.

He rubbed his arm and I tried to forget how toned he had felt beneath my knuckles. "You're not very girly, are ya, kid? I guess you and your boyfriend really haven't—"

I slapped him on his shoulder this time, "He's _not_ my boyfriend! And what the hell are you implying?!"

He held his hands up with his palms facing me: the universal sign for 'surrender.' "Okay, t'was too far." My eyes adjusted to the darkness, despite the pain of having had my contacts in for a full day. I saw his shirt first, which was stained with something dark brown. He had taken his boots off, leaving his hairy red toes exposed. I laughed inwardly. _I guess he really isn't so perfect._

His hair, which had been swept past his face, revealed spiky ears. I stared at them for a moment, thinking that my vision really had simply gone to shit, but those ears wouldn't shrink. Had they always been so pointy? Had he done something to hide them earlier? As much as I hated to admit it, they really did make him look more_ inhuman_.

I sat cross-legged, now too energized and curious to fall back asleep. "Well, what do you want?"

He sat across from me, seeming too chipper for this time of night. "Stand guard while I fall asleep."

"What?"

"You've been sleeping like the dead for hours now and I'm getting kinda tired, so you watch out while I catch some zzz's. I'm sure nothing too scary like a _bunny_ will pop out at you."

I grimaced at that obvious jab at my previous trauma, but I supposed I shouldn't have been so selfish as to assume that he could always watch over me at his own disadvantage. I mean, magical beings or fictional characters or _fae _needed sleep too, right?

I nodded, rubbing my eyes and trying to think of things that would wake me up, like getting splashed with cold water or listening to a blaring siren.

He clapped me on the shoulder with a stunning but suspicious grin. "Coolio! Wake me up if you're getting molested or something."

"Don't even joke about that!" I attempted to sound threatening, but Puck's head was already buried in the crook of his elbow, his eyes closed.

It wasn't cold outside and I had received plenty of sleep, so I had no reasons to complain. For comfort, I dug into my wicker basket, searching for a late night snack. When my hand was already buried into the basket, I realized that this was an awful idea. I had no idea how long I was going to be stuck in the NeverNever or when I would begin to understand what was going on, but I couldn't risk tasting any of the food here. In case Puck was actually telling the truth, I would be in deep shit if I ran out of food from my basket and was forced to scavenge for food in this place.

I started to remove my hand when I felt something that definitely _didn't_ belong in my basket. I pulled out my favorite gray beanie, which was wet and dirty and smelled like turkey sandwiches, but gave me more hope than I had imagined. I also removed a silky blue rain jacket. It was the same one that Alex had given me on the rainy night of the dance. I caught a hint of his cologne on it and instantly felt like crying.

I snuggled with my hat on and the jacket in my arms against the same tree trunk that Puck was currently nuzzled into. I stared at him, denying how creepy that was, and thought of how much I really_ didn't_ know him. He could have robbed me in my sleep and ditched me with no hope. He could have killed me and eaten my flesh like the powerful magical being he claimed to be. He could have raped me in my sleep but, considering I wasn't exactly the finest filly in the village, the other two were more likely.

"'I _like _humans.'"

I wanted to believe that he would stay true to his word and help me find a trod, but I was having a difficult time. Robin Goodfellow is infamous for pranks, trickery, and telling half-truths. If he really was who he said he was, despite the logic I had grown up worshiping, then how could I trust anything he said?

Protecting me was probably a burden, but I wasn't the one who suggested that he stay awake for hours watching out for dangerous passersby while I slept. It was a little too late to convince me that he was a gentleman or even an_ honest_ man. However, despite the overwhelming evidence driving me away from him, my heart had not yet fully closed off to accepting him.

I turned back to Puck, my sword held firmly in front of me. He was in a seemingly deep sleep; his mouth was hung open and his breathing was louder than the warm wind rustling the leaves. I giggled. He was older—_way_ older—than me, but he still managed to look like a child. Unconsciously, I reached my hand out to pat Puck's head, surprised that his spiky tuft of hair could be so soft. I ruffled it around, finding some kind of tired, delirious amusement in it. Under my hand, Puck shifted, unknowingly giving me a smile.

I paused.

_What the fuck am I doing?_

Before I could draw my own hand away, I heard a caw in the trees that made me involuntarily withdraw. I mean, _voluntarily_. I mean…there was a bird.

I raised my sword , unsure how to use it against a flying beast, and stood up warily. My gray beanie was restricting my sight, so I lifted it and scanned the clearing. The dirt ground was empty besides a colony of ants.

I heard a call from my right and turned. Another from my left. I turned again. I hadn't heard any rustling or wings flapping. Was it that group of ravens again? Shit. I couldn't even _see _at this time of night, let alone fight back.

A pair of bright green eyes peeked through the bushes. My heart stopped.

"Puck! Wake up! I know I'm on duty, but please, wake up!" I winced as I realized that I would owe him something extra for that slip of the tongue, but my panic clouded my concern. "Come on! Puck!"

His sleeping face stayed stoic. There was no sign that he would soon wake from such deep R.E.M. _How lucky. M__y protector is a heavy sleeper._

I didn't see the bird, but felt the wind as it swooped down, barely missing my head. I let out a high-pitched, pathetic squeal. I heard a flurry of wings from my rear and, shakily, I lifted my sword. I was useless and one more jump scare away from soiling myself, but I wasn't going to run away. I had nowhere to run, more like it. I would end up like the staple dumb blonde girl in every horror movie who still tries to escape, even after the murderer has drugged her, tied her up, locked her in a cage with no key, and chopped off her feet. At least, if I was going to die, I wasn't gonna look like a worthless pussy while doing it.

The collection of green eyes and gossamer black wings gathered on the tree branches. There seemed to be less ravens than last time, but I was still terrified. I barred my teeth and roared, "I'm fucking _tired_ of you! If you start something, then finish it, you shitty flying rats!" _Why did you leave me alive earlier if you were ju__st going to hunt after me? _

One took flight and came barreling toward me, but it happened slowly. A second seemed to last for an hour. I dropped my sword, feeling the strength rush out of my body. But I opened my eyes, hoping that whatever impossible entity had been protecting me since the beginning would come through for me now.

When the bird and my face were about to collide—

A blue light exploded in front of me. It formed streaks and continued to swarm around itself until it formed a shimmering, tightly-packed ball. It spun and glittered like a falling star. The ball shrunk until it popped, leaving only a floating, dark green leaf.

Why was this familiar?

The birds still perched on the branch lifted off and began flying around each other, forming a perfect sphere. They, too, eventually forged a sparkling blue ball, which burst into thousands of fluttering leaves. I blanched, absolutely sure that, if I blinked, I would find this all to be an illusion.

Only one bird remained and, as it flew toward me, I flinched and clenched my fist around my sword's hilt. It slowed down as it neared my face, then _it _exploded. It didn't transform into a tight, luminescent blue ball, but a cylinder. Then a floating blob. After only a second, the ball had taken the shape of a human. The light dissipated.

Puck stood with unbreakable confidence and a gleam in his eyes. The blue light disappeared around his feet, but my eyes were drawn to his adorable but extremely irritating dimples.

He was…a bird.

The birds that were chasing me were from him.

They _were_ him.

That _bitch_!

"Tada! And for my next trick, I shall make your body turn to ice!" He motioned to me with a dramatic bow and raised eyebrows. I didn't move, still too shocked to react. He smirked and I thought, _That dick_. "Thank you, audience! Thank you so much for coming ou—Oh, did I scare you?" He asked, obviously fucking with me. "Of course, I did! I only wanted to have a little fun—"

"What the hell is _wrong_ with you?!" I screamed, making him flinch backwards, despite his bravado. "Do you know how _s__cared_ I was when you attacked me earlier? _What _made you think that that kind of thing was okay? You _don't do_ that kind of thing to people!" I was angry, passionate, sweaty, shaken. I clawed my cap, thinking, _Why is he tormenting me like this?_

I had shaken him as well. Considering his charming, frivolous behavior, he probably wasn't used to women yelling at him...well, not women that he hadn't _slept_ with. I had to make it clear _now_ that, if we were going to be traveling together, he would have to keep his bullshit to a minimum.

He didn't give me the reaction I was expecting. His eyebrows creased and his eyes, which now reminded me of blood-thirsty birds, grew dark. "I _do_ have a job, you know. _Professional business._ If I wanted to mess around and not _scare_ you half to death on our first encounter, I would have stepped out with this gorgeous face of mine and seduced you like I would with any other woman.

"Remember when I said that fae are attracted to imagination? That's _not_ you. I wasn't following you out of interest or in order to build up glamour—" _And what the hell is_ that? "—I was suspicious of you, in case you couldn't tell."

I stopped and my hand fell from my scalp. "Suspicious of _me_? Of a clumsy human trying to use her iPhone to find civilization that doesn't seem to exist?"

He shook his head and began walking over to the tree at my back. He placed his hand on the trunk and, even though he was facing the dense forest, I could clearly hear his gruff voice. "Oberon told me to investigate this area. He said that there's been a lot of activity out of a trod around here; most of it by humans. He ordered me to scope out the location and observe those that come through."

"Is it _that_ much of a problem?" I didn't realize at that moment how dumb of a question that was. Of course, it was a problem! Discovering and wandering into this place could only increase a person's chance of being eaten alive times ten.

Puck answered anyway, "Humans have entered trods before and they normally completely lose their minds after long, uninterrupted visits. Many of them ended up blabbing about the NeverNever to other people once they left. Most are treated like psych ward victims, but there's a possibility that some higher ups have taken notice. Do you know what kind of chaos would happen if humans like scientists and government employees catch wind of it?"

"You're probably over-exaggerating _just_ a tad."

"Any group coming in from a few trods at the same time can still cause chaos to the NeverNever, though."

I smirked cynically, "They'd rip the space-time continuum a new one." Okay, I get it. That was unsophisticated, but _fuck_ sophistication. We were sleeping in the woods.

He rolled his eyes, "That's_ not_ funny," he claimed, even though I could see his lips twitching. He was such a liar. This was only what was expected from 'the illustrious Robin Goodfellow.' Or a very good cosplayer of him. _Yes, I a__m still convincing myself of that._

"So, you thought that I came in here on purpose?"

"I know that all you can do is wave that sword around like a kid fighting off a swarm of bees, but it _really_ didn't make you any easier to trust."

"I _found_ it here. I swear." My eyes shifted to the spot on the ground where I had dropped my sword after Puck surprised me. I noticed the sleeping Puck, whose hair I had caressed a moment before, still breathing lightly with his mouth propped open.

The real Puck sighed, "If only I had really been there instead of my puppet when you were 'protecting' me." He stalked closer and reached out his hand. Although it was so dark, he drew so close that I could see every contour of his face. I was too focused on burning holes into his eye sockets that I didn't even mind when he grabbed a ringlet of my hair. "You were so cute, rubbing my head and all. Did I really look that delicate while I slept?"

_Okay, now I'm really mad._

I lifted both of my hands to his chest and shoved him away harshly, mortified by the warmth on my face. "Shut up!" Why was he touching me so much? Could he sense that I was inexperienced with men, so this was just additional torment?

I had cleared up his suspicion of me, but now_ I_ was suspicious. He mentioned that staying in the NeverNever for too long could drive humans insane. Why had he never mentioned this? It wasn't like he didn't know that I was human! Was that my fate? Was that the fate of_ every _human who wandered into here?

Was that what happened to my father? Not his obsession with the NeverNever, but the NeverNever _itself_ caused his mental distress?

Was I doomed to end up like my father?

I tried to hide my grief, but Puck read my mind. His whole body seemed to sigh and, with the gentlest touch, he patted both of my shoulders. "If you're worrying about staying in here for too long and going nuts, _don't. _We'll find Grim and he'll lead us to the trod. I'll have to make a deal with him, though, which could potentially be extremely horrifying…" Puck's confident, sparkling eyes dimmed, as though he was imagining something awful.

"Grim? Who's that?" What kind of person has a name that's an adjective? Was he a wizard? A goblin? Some other magical manifestation from a childish storybook?

Puck's hands fell from my shoulders. He turned and moved further into the darkness, then glanced at his doppelganger. With a snap of his fingers, the clone disappeared and Puck took its spot on the dirt. He rested against the enormous tree with one leg over the other and both hands behind his head. I tried not to laugh when this position reminded me of a few famous female nude paintings that I had seen in AP Art History. "Grim is short for Grimalkin. He's an old friend of mine, in more than one respect. He should know how to find a trod. Although considering ho tricky trods are, don't blame me if you end up in Afghanistan instead of Virginia."

Was it stupid of me to be slightly flattered that he remembered where I was from?

No, I shouldn't have been! Because he found me in Virginia! This was still Virginia! _I can't let myself become confused. I can't let him confuse me!_

I wrinkled my brow. My head pounded painfully, even though there were no other sounds in these woods besides us. Everything I knew as 'logic' was being torn to pieces. "So, if you live in this world with courts and fae and all this mystical malarkey, how do you know about things from my world? Like Afghanistan and video cameras and raves?" _Riddle me _that_, you fake._

He had closed both of his eyes, which made his face difficult to see in the dark, but he answered me without missing a beat. "I spent a lot of time in the human world and I go there a lot to play."

Did I even _want_ to know what he meant by 'play?' "How long did you spend there?"

"Sixteen years."

"Why?"

"Business," he said concretely, as if someone had dropped a boulder on the conversation. "I might tell you later, but for now, go to sleep before I try another trick, okay?"

I was about to argue, say that it was still my turn to watch, say that he was no used to me if he wasn't well-rested. I snuggled back into the tree roots on the opposite side of the same tree where he was resting, but still warily faced him.

In the darkness I squinted to make out an assuring smile: the most trustworthy and gentle face he had given me yet. "Don't look at me like that. It's creepy. Fae don't need as much sleep as humans. So, go to bed, kid. Or, do you need me to tuck you in?"

I stretched out, feeling restless. "Why are you messing with me so much, huh? This whole situation is taxing enough as it is. Why so bitter?"

I waited for maybe thirty seconds, but he didn't even grace me with an answer. I retired onto my dirty and weedy grass pillow and, suddenly, I yawned._ But, I wasn't tired at all a moment ago._ I progressed almost unnaturally fast into sleep and, after only a minute, I was already too exhausted to keep my eyes open. Before I drifted to sleep, I muttered, "And by the way, my name is Silvia."

My world was flooded with blackness, but I heard a smile in Puck's voice as he said, "Don't worry. I remember."

****Hello! Sorry, once again, about the late release, but we decided that promising "an early one next time" only makes us worse liars, so we're not gonna do that this week!**

**We really wanted to give a shout out to Queen of Air and Darkness ****whose comment on the last chapter was really helpful, really cute, and really **_**long. **_**Well, really, thank you EVERYONE who has commented so far because it **_**actually**_** makes us feel like we're writing something that doesn't just completely suck -_-. My partner a****nd I both has the low self-esteem (bad grammar intended).**

**To everyone reading (if you are still in school): good luck on your finals! We know we'll need it!****


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

After a few hours, I awoke and was nearly blinded by what appeared to be the noon sun. I sat up abruptly and rubbed my eyes, cursing in pain and exhausted delirium. The sun was perfectly above our clearing and a chorus of sounds echoed through the woods. Not those of early morning birds and crickets, but of shifting, rustling bushes, and the calls of animals that I was better off forgetting about. Yawning, I stood from my makeshift bed and glanced around the tree in search of Puck. I hadn't really expected him to be there, so I wasn't surprised when I found the spot empty.

I shrugged it off, assuring myself that he was out doing something productive and that he hadn't left me for dead. Besides, he knew these woods better than me, so it would've been ridiculous if I had tagged along, trying to help and only slowing him down. I wondered if he was searching for his _own_ food and, consequently, my stomach rumbled. I stalked like a zombie over to my basket, which I had laid hidden in a hole under the giant tree's roots. I peeled off the rain jacket and placed it by the basket and over my sword, mentally thanking Alex for leaving it with me. I kept on the gray beanie, not so much for warmth, but for emotional comfort. I rummaged through the basket until I found a half-consumed sandwich and, although it was soggy and smelled like rotten wood from baking in that basket for over a day, it would suffice. I mean, it would_ have_ to.

"Bon appetite." I grumbled before chuckling sadly, recalling the conversation between Alex and I during our picnic.

Suddenly, it felt as though a lead weight had been dropped on my chest.

_Alex…_

I lowered the sandwich as my hunger faded. I couldn't stop thinking about him.

I _had_ to see him again. I _would_. With Puck's help, I would, right?

And when I did, Alex would be there, smiling like a dummy and telling me about how Alma's latest dish sprouted tentacles and attacked them all. What was awful, though, was that all of the memories after mom died, after moving in with Alex, after becoming a member of the Pierce family, were fuzzy. Blurred memories. The more I tried to recall details, to recall feelings, the more it seemed like a veil of mist clouded my mind.

I clenched my jaw, biting my gums in the process. Was this another effect of the NeverNever? Was I not only doomed to lose my sanity, but also lose any precious memories?

I slammed my fist against the tree trunk, squeezing my sandwich into a pulp in my fist.

Damn this place! Why was I _here_? Why couldn't I leave? I didn't care about the beauty or the mystery! I cared about _home_! My home!

A luke-warm liquid trickled down my knuckles, covering them with red. I looked forward to find my right fist, which was flush with the tree, releasing a fine stream of blood. I gawked at it, trying to remember the strength I had put into my fist. Was it enough to break through skin?

This was real, right? I was going crazy already, right?

I took a deep breath, convincing myself that this was stress. This was only stress and fear and there was no point if my actions only brought injury to myself. No genius discovery was ever made under extreme stress. Breathe in. Breathe out.

This was _not_ how I dealt with things: getting violent and punching poor trees that had done nothing wrong to me. I normally would seclude and then calm myself, reciting that there was nothing worth getting violent over. There was nothing worth having if I couldn't achieve it with strength that I _alone_ already possessed. I was as strong as I needed to be. Maybe that was why I never _tried_ in sports or in making friends. But it was too late to think of that now.

It would work out. It _had_ to.

Puck was still nowhere to be found, which was both unnerving and peaceful. I contemplated searching for him, but decided against it, choosing to _live_ rather than get lost in this fucking place.

After spending several minutes wandering around our pathetic campsite (if you can even call a scrap of land with a picnic basket and convenient badly-shaped root system that) I noticed a sound. The trickling of water. Perhaps I had been too nervous and sick to notice last night, but there was definitely flowing water somewhere hidden in the trees. My throat throbbed. I wasn't supposed to eat the food here, but would water be okay? Just a drink? Or how about a bath? I hadn't taken one since the night before Alex and I went on our picnic. Now, it was the hottest part of the day and my once-new and chic clothes smelled like the boys' locker room.

A drink and a dip would be fine. And there was no way that I would get lost because I just had to follow the sound of water! Genius!

I stepped over a rock shaped like a seashell and lumbered into the forest, growing even more delighted as the sound of flowing water drew closer. Closer. Eventually, although I couldn't see the sunlight from another clearing, I heard the water as clearly as if it was coming from my sink faucet. I stepped on a mossy patch and grinned. This ensured the proximity of marine life.

Behind a patch of red bushes was a stream, not quite big enough to be called a river, which was being fed by a shallow waterfall that trailed from an unmeasureable distance to my left. I walked over to the shallow bank of the stream and stared at my reflection, preparing for the worst. I was stunned by the appearance of a disheveled, monstrous looking girl on the calm, slow-moving surface of the stream. My hair was a frizzy mess and poked out randomly from my beanie, which was a mess in itself. I had scratches on my face, my arms, and my chest, all of which were probably left over from my falls yesterday. My clothes were dirty to the point that I didn't even think being soaked in detergent and sprayed by a power washer could save them.

I cupped my hands and dunked them into the stream, testing whether it really was safe to drink the water here. My fingers tingled as my I brought the water to my lips. It was clear, except or a slight hint of dirt, but I was desperate enough to not care. "Thank God. I haven't had water in two days." I hadn't even noticed the aching of my throat apart from my mental dysfunction. I wish that I could stay here for days, replenish my thirst, relax—

And bathe.

What a novel idea! I smelled like shit, looked like shit, and felt like shit. What a wonderful time for a bath, especially since this water was unnaturally clean. No one was around besides Puck. What were the chances that he would be gone _all_ morning then _suddenly_ show up while I was naked?

I decided to wear my bra and panties, just in case.

I tore off my vest and unbuttoned my blouse as if they were on fire. My sweat had made my jeans stick uncomfortably to my legs, so I had to bend over and use both hands in order to shrug them off. I left my shoes, clothes, among the tree roots and wasted no time scurrying to the edge of the stream. I was so anxious to get clean that I didn't even contemplate how much dirtier my clothes were getting by being on the ground. I tested the water with my toe, but drew back instantly. "Holy _shit_, that's cold."

I shrugged off the nerves, thinking, _Of course, it's cold! It's like going into the ocean on a blazing hot day. At first, it's freezing, but after a few minutes, you won't even notice._

I plunged my nose into my armpit, which currently smelled like a gym locker room, a toxic waste dump, and a barn full of cow manure all in one. This tremendous odor gave me the incentive to continue.

I took a deep breath and decided to get it over with. I plunged into the stream with my eyes closed, then immediately submerged myself. My heart nearly stopped. The water surrounded me and I opened my eyes, temporarily forgetting about my contacts. I swam forward a few feet before I had to breach the surface, catch my breath, and bite my lip so that I wouldn't squeal. Luckily, the water wasn't salty, so it wasn't excruciatingly painful against my cuts, but my body was not reacting well to the temperature. It was as clear as bottled water, tasted like mineral water, and felt like liquid nitrogen. My teeth began chattering, but the refreshing cool overpowered the uncomfortably intense freeze.

As far as I could see, there were no creatures in the stream besides me. No fish or even algae. It was pristine. I wondered, too, what kind of monsters would live in the water if this really was the NeverNever. Was I in danger on land and in the water? No. I wasn't in danger. I felt safe here.

After running, sweating, and sleeping on the ground, this was the most peaceful and refreshing moment since I entered the NeverNever. I actually began laughing. At myself. At this whole situation. I was so far from home, but relaxing like this reminded me of Alex's house; of a place with air conditioning and refrigerators and ice. I felt my whole body go practically numb. First my legs, then my torso, then my mind.

At this point, I was so relaxed that I didn't care who gawked at me. At the stupid human soaking herself in water that was probably a lot dirtier than she had originally thought. I swam over fluidly to the shallow bank of the stream, not caring about covering up the parts that could clearly be seen above the water's surface. I sat on an agglomeration of smoothed rocks that forged the edge of the stream and sat calmly, barely having to fight against the pull of the current.

I didn't even care if Puck came by with his silent feet and wandering eyes. I had my underwear on, anyway! Besides, he had the charm of an escort and a face that belonged on a magazine. Even though I didn't think that he "played around" as much he _claimed_, this definitely would not have been his first time seeing a naked or half-naked woman. The sight of me with only a bra and panties on, covered in liquid, would do _nothing_ for him.

"Hey."

I jumped, my body tensing up from the feeling of warm breath in my right ear. My hands flew to my private, sparsely-covered areas. "Wh-what the hell do you think you're doing?" I flipped around to find Puck, crouching casually on the river bed that I was lying against. He stared at me with wide green eyes as he tossed an unknown and gruesome-looking fruit between his palms.

He didn't answer that question, even though my eyes were screaming 'get the hell out of here.' "Wow, your breasts are bigger than I thought." I hated the feeling of his eyes panning downward toward my half-naked, quivering form. "Say, I hate to burst your bubble, since this is probably the first time that you've been able to rest from walking with that _stick_ up your ass, but we gotta scoot. It's not a good idea to stay in one place for long, _especially_ in the Wyldewood."

I decided that I was too mature to fret over the 'stick up your ass' comment, but I was willing to defend my reasoning for bathing at such a seemingly inconvenient time. With my hand still covering my breasts and my face a hot red, I stuttered, "It's unhealthy to go without bathing for too long. Besides, I'm not used to walking for this long, so a momentary break was necessary."

Puck shook his scruffy head in disappointment, "If you're tired already, you're gonna need a stretcher by the time we get to Grim's."

This was exactly why I was having such a hard time accepting this whole circumstance! He knew so much about my world, so how was I to tell whether that was because of easy access between the two worlds or because_ there was only one_?

"Of course, all would be forgiven if you'd let me join." He wagged his eyebrow and brought his hands together, making a pose as if he was going to dive in.

I released one of my cupped hands in order to splash him. He cried out in high-pitched protest, but I responded harshly, "If that's some ridiculous attempt to make a pass at me, don't even bother. There is _nothing_ that I have that you would wanna see."

He flicked off the water from his arms with a brisk shaking of his wrists and a stern look. "My _lady_, there is no man in _either_ of our worlds that would not seize an opportunity to see the body of such a _fine_ young woman as yourself." He lifted his arms in my direction, as if my body was some sort of spectacle.

I took a rock from the shore and chucked it at him.

"Ow!"He squealed.

"Go away! I'll find you when I'm done, just give me some damn privacy!" I lowered myself in the water, hoping that the surface could blur the previously crystal-clear view of my breasts. I locked my eyes on the dark trees from whence I came, hoping that he would leave if I didn't give him the attention that he wanted.

He shrugged, but his face maintained a severely annoying smirk. "That's all fine and dandy. You're just a kid, so there's probably not much to see."

It was extremely stupid, immature, and ridiculous to pout, but I did anyway. "I'm not a kid! I'm eighteen years old; technically an adult in the eyes of the United States government!"

"Well, we're not_ in_ the United States. Out here, you're just a kid. When you get back home, you can buy all the lottery tickets and Russian mail-order wives you want."

_Does he think I'm a lesbian?_ "Stop _fucking_ with me with all this 'going home' shit!"

Puck's face morphed into something resembling pity mixed with shock and a splash of annoyance. "How far in denial _are_ you?"

"I said _go_!" I threw another rock at him, a blue one that was slightly smaller than the last, but thrown with much more strength.

Puck covered the spot on his thigh where I had nailed him. "Okay, okay! I'm really leaving now." He grinned sheepishly before striding several feet away and then vanishing somewhere behind a large tree.

I rolled my eyes, trying to hide my obvious humiliation with a snarky grimace. This was the ultimate torture for an antisocial loner like myself; having to cooperate with a person as difficult as him. _I swear, if he's sneaking around one of these trees right now…_

I finished up my bath as quickly as possible, taking every precaution to cover my body. My eyes shifted around before I resurfaced and crawled up to the shore. I stayed on my hands and knees for a few moments, looked around, then stood up. I shook off the water and the air suddenly felt like an anvil of frost. I shivered as I squeezed out the water that was trapped in my curly, tangled hair. I tip-toed over to the spot where I had left my clothes—

Wait.

What?

Why wasn't there—?

_Where are my clothes?_

I stared blankly at the spot where I had _most definitely_ placed my clothes, but there were no clothes to speak of. How could that be? I did _not_ make a mistake!

An animal barked very close to my right ear, but I didn't nudge. The cold didn't even bother me anymore as I stared at the empty spot, thinking, _Some bastard stole my clothes!_

"_Puck_! Where the _hell_ are you?" I shouted, currently disregarding the possible danger of making a spectacle of myself in this mysterious forest. I tried to cover my dripping body, but there was no way to cover my_ front_ and _back_ simultaneously.

"Do you _want_ me watch you or not?" I turned around to find Puck hanging upside-down from a low-hanging tree branch. His eyebrow was raised, but it was hard to identify the peculiarities of his expressions because of the awkward angle. "Wow. Thanks for the treat."

I backed away and, fretting about failing to cover myself completely, I knelt to the ground in panic. My knees were shaking against the slimy grass. I tilted my head downward, not wanting to meet his bright and curious eyes. "Where the hell did you put my clothes, Puck?"

"What are you talking about?"

"My clothes are _gone_! What did you do with them?"

He scoffed, "Oh, please. If I had wanted to steal your clothes, I would've made sure to take your underwear, too."

Rage. Irritation. Shame. They all filled me with the intensity and speed of a river. _Are_ all _men such perverts?_

"But I'll check around for the clothing bandit." He grunted as he lunged upward, then dived from the tree branch. He did a perfect flip in the air before landing on his tip-toes like a sassy, overconfident cat. "In fact, I think I can sense the bastard right now."

"Can you just _go_?"

"What will you do for _me_?"

My eyebrows furrowed. I didn't say 'please,' but he expected me to make a deal anyway? Would I really have to fall even more in debt with him? What the hell kind of torture did I have to look forward to?

I was still cold and nervous, but I began to sputter nonsense. "I can…do…umm…I mean, I'm really just good at housework…so, I really…"

I heard his voice roam closer, even though I was still kneeling on the grass. "How about," he offered, "you cover yourself up. I've seen all I wanted to and now it's just sad."

I raised my head, fuming, prepared to say, 'I would bundle up if I could, you asshole! Someone stole my clothes, remember?'

But before I made such a fool of myself, I felt something light-weight but solid on my back. It was slippery and I noticed the navy blue cloth draped over my shoulder. I felt Puck's hands drift away from my shoulder and, still shocked, I thought, _He brought Alex's jacket for me. Did he know that my clothes would be stolen?_

Puck shrugged as he took a stop beyond another seashell-shaped rock. "I figured that you would be chilly after coming from the bath."

Puck ran into the forest behind me while I sat still like a bumbling idiot. I was so glad that Puck had brought me my jacket, but I was also slightly relieved that he hadn't, in fact, been the one to steal my clothes. He was, despite my expectations and desires, suddenly raising my hope in him. Only a little bit.

I felt a breeze along my panty line and I cringed. I zipped up the jacket, unspeakably glad that it was long enough to cover my ass. I stumbled into the forest after Puck, not wanting to be alone in case some other sneaky whack job decided to come by and fuck with me some more.

After about twenty seconds, my feet were already tired. I tripped after fallen branch after twig after spiky leaf after possible furry animal before I determined that a short rest was in order. I inspected my feet and their very fresh cuts and bruises. The woods grew colder the farther I progressed. Although I could see a delicate pink light about fifty feet away, I still felt as though I was stumbling blindly. Another breeze ran up my recently waxed legs to my exposed torso. I shivered violently, close to tears.

I stepped into the pale light, expected an ecstatic Puck basking in the light, having caught the thieves and wearing my pink bra on his head above a goofy smile.

I gasped as I stared across the bright clearing at a thick, gleaming spider web. It was woven between several of the trees with fibers as thick as rope. The white material glittered in sparse moonlight, but also seemed to give off its own light; it was glowing. Puck stood to the side of the web, standing proudly with his hands on his hips. _He must have made this._ I moved closer, clutching the jacket closer to the center of my body, and stared at the figures trapped in the web.

Three tiny humanoid creatures were pulling and groaning and struggling to free themselves from the web. They also glowed; one was blue, the other green, and the other orange. They appeared to be miniature humans, only with larger, pointier ears like Puck's, abnormally large eyes, disproportionally smaller appendages, and beautiful, decorative pairs of gossamer wings.

I had to blink several times, completely unaccustomed to seeing such things outside of Hollywood film CGI. They didn't look computer generated, nor did they sound automated. How could these have been truly sentient beings, capable of making the choice to steal clothing based on their own free will, yet their heads were _obviously_ too small to house all of the necessary neurological components for intelligence?

I didn't ask any questions. I only accepted the fact that they were here, stuck in a gigantic spider web that I was disappointed I didn't get to watch Puck create.

It was almost sad to see the tiny people fight the strength of the web. However, when I saw my clothes collected in a pile on the ground close to them, I realized that these tiny creatures stole my clothing. Even though that didn't appear physically probable.

"Pixies aren't all that bad, but they've been known to play pretty ruthless pranks on humans." Puck stalked over to the web. When the pixies twitched at his approach, he grinned impishly. "They're just as naughty as…well, _me_. But they're much less tasteful about it."

"Let them go." I blurted out, astounded that I could ever mutter a word, considering my surroundings. I wanted to ask how he had found them. How he had made that spider web. What other creatures were lurking in the forest besides the pixies. Unfortunately, the pull that the pixies faces of sheer terror had on my heartstrings was powerful.

He raised an eyebrow, probably just as confused as I was that that was the first thing out of my mouth. "Um, shouldn't you be saying things like 'what took you so long' and 'give me my clothes back already, you asshole?' I'm surprised that you're not verbally abusing me right now like you always do."

"It's my motherly side." That was painful to say, but also painfully true. I had always hated seeing my mom upset or dejected, even though I had hated her alcoholism even more. Having to take care of her definitely instilled within me some motherly skills, but I didn't know that my sense of responsibility had sunken in so deeply. "We got my clothes back, so there's no reason to keep them there. Besides, you already scared them enough."

The pixie looked up at me with their abnormally large eyes sparkling, as though I was some goddess, Buddha, and Morgan Freeman all rolled into one. I had spared them this one, but they had better think twice before fucking with me again.

I pulled the jacket down over my thighs one last time before I bent down to retrieve my jeans. Even though, it that position, Puck saw the full view of my bare back and my sexy lace panties, he sighed. "For such a hard-ass, you're a real softie." He mumbled as he snapped his fingers. The web unwound itself, as though all of the white ropes that had laced together were slowly and gingerly being pulled apart from all directions. It unraveled in a wave formation until it reached the circle-shaped center. As the last portion unwound, the pixies stretched their arms and scurried away without a spared moment. I hadn't expected them to thank me for two reasons: first, I wasn't sure if their throats were large enough to allow for vocal chords and second, it would initiate a deal between us in which they would be in debt.

I smiled earnestly, thinking about how gracious I was to have saved them, despite my furious maze of emotions.

Puck scoffed to my right, his arms crossed. "Oh, so now _I'm_ the mean one."

I clenched my jaw to stop myself from saying something _unladylike_. "I just think that that was unnecessary roughness." The sun broke through the tree canopy and outlined some remnants of the spider web that Puck had just demolished.

"I had to catch them_ somehow_. They have _wings_ you know?" He flapped his hands in the air, trying to imitate the flapping of wings.

"How would you feel if some stranger trapped you in a giant _spider web_ while you were in your crow form?"

"Scared."

"Ah _ha_!"

"_Because_ I'm one of the only fae and the _only_ phouka that can do that. If I encountered someone else who could weave a web as fantastic as mine, we'd have problem on our hands."

I paused, having caught something possible unnecessary but otherwise intriguing. "I didn't know that you're powers were so exclusive."

He smiled crookedly, as though he was stuck in reminiscence. Recalling knowledge that could only be attained after living for hundreds of years. "There're a lot of things about me that I don't advertise for every fae with eyes and some sort of intellect to see. I'm a loner like that."

I felt a wry smile sliver onto my lips. "Then we might not be as different as we thought."

A breeze swept by, taking my sense and Puck's calm face far away. Did I really say that? Why did I say that? Why was this conversation progressing the way that it was and, truly, was this progression a good or a bad thing?

I wanted to trust Puck. I can't say that I did, but I truly think that I wanted to. Was giving him this small, indiscernible piece of myself and trying-to-connect-to-him some sort of method to 'reach out' and 'grow closer?' Was that my intention? What the fuck was I thinking?

As usual, this flurry of thoughts ran through my head in a matter of seconds. I went through a continuous pattern of regretting, then accepting, then being embarrassed by, then understanding what I had just said to him. Meanwhile, Puck stared at me with eyes as wide as the bright sun through the tree canopy. He was probably just as astonished as I was. He probably wasn't used to not being aware and comfortable with what a woman did and said, especially one who seemed as simple as I was. I mean, I am simple, right? A bookish, snooty loner who only has one friend and severely overly-active motherly sense.

_Wow. I don't think that there was a good trait in that _entire_ description._

"Well, at least you two kids are getting along."

Both of our heads turned to the side, breaking our contact. In many ways, I was grateful for this new distraction, but scared at the same time. The voice from the trees clearly belonged to a man, but had a suave, smooth tone. I couldn't assume that the voice came from a human, nor did I believe that it did. Besides, the voice had sounded from twenty feet up one of the large trees around the clearing.

In my peripheral vision, I saw something frighteningly fast and strange, but eerily familiar. A silver flash of light dashed across the ground, but it most certainly was not a bunny. I concluded that neither our school garden nor Alex's front yard was its home.

I recognized this sparkling silver speck. I grew more and more curious and fearful as it drew closer. Had this person been following me? Why was he here?

Then, I noticed that this creature wasn't even in the shape of a human, but instead an animal strutting toward us on four feet. It was covered with sleek gray fur, a black nose, and fierce whiskers. The way it moved made it seem like a thief, sneaking dangerously His eyes glowed a dangerous yellow and hung above a wide, sharp-toothed smile.

"I heard the little human is looking for a trod."

****AN: OH, MY GOD! WE SO SORRY THAT THIS IS SO LATE! Sorry to bellabella882 and everyone who gave us reviews and asked that we…uhh…update soon…IT'S BEEN A VERY BUSY FEW WEEKS! We had graduation stuff and now my partner is in Rhode Island and I'm working for my dad and…aw, that's no excuse. I must admit that both of us are masters at procrastination. T'will be the death of us.**

**This chapter actually took a while to finish, too, because we wanted to add in a lot in and I had to remember a lot of minor details. For example, I typed up a whole part where she had her underwear on in the water, revisited the document a couple of days later, and then wrote it as if she was totally in the buff! A **_**little**_** confused!**

**The next one may take a while as well because I'm leaving on a trip TOMORROW (technically today), but we will try to buckle down as soon as the both of us STOP DOING STUFF. And thank you GatherFireflies and Wink N Nodd for wishing us luck on our finals…we have no idea if it worked as of yet, but thanks anyway!****

****Wow. That was a really long author's note…****


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

At this point, I shouldn't have been surprised. I _really_ shouldn't have been surprised. Yet, somehow, my eyes still widened with innocent shock and my breath still caught in my throat when a large, fluffy feline emerged from the shadows, speaking like a perfect _human_.

I could understand a stray cat wandering around the forest without a collar. I could even understand pets possibly learning to _almost_ say words, like that dog on the video who told its owner 'I love you.' But animals…don't _do_ that. And isn't that probably the most overused plot device of all of time? Animals speaking to people? _I could make allusions to several noteworthy tall tales and allegories that use this device, but I won't._

I think this topped the bunny-bear, lake woman, pixies, and Puck's preposterous back-story _simply_ because of cliché _absurdity_. So, why was I surprised? Maybe because, no matter how many supernatural tall tales I had heard, no matter at what age, this truth always prevailed:

Animals can't talk.

"I-t…it shouldn't be able to…I don't understand…" I muttered dubiously, my balled fists shaking at my belt loops as violently as the rest of my body. I tried to avoid looking at either of them, especially at the cat's piercing yellow eyes, as I continued to get dressed. I hadn't stopped trying to evaluate my situation, but it wasn't necessarily helping that, down every corner I turned, there was another logic-defying, mind boggling _something_ waiting for me.

The cat stood tall, haughtily flicking its thick, gray tail back and forth.

"Do _not_ refer to me as an '_it_,' human."

_How am I supposed to call you anything besides an 'it' if I can't even tell what gender you are?_ "W-wha-?" No words were coming out. Only intelligible, hoarse grunts. I loudly and pathetically cleared my throat, trying to hide that I still hadn't regained my composure.

"Whoa, Grim!" Puck smiled at the glaring feline, appearing in the conversation as the non-biased third party. "Didn't expect you to drop by so soon! I thought we'd have to come find you first. Well, what am I complaining about? This makes things a _whole_ lot easier."

I sputtered what should've been words until it became a cough, "Grim?!"

The cat closed its stunningly bright eyes and raised its large head, as if it was royalty waiting to be worshipped. I knew that it was only a cat, but this somehow pissed me off. "I have many names, but you may refer to me as Grimalkin." The cat glanced briefly in my direction and, with a huff, returned his gaze to Puck. "It seems you made a deal with the human, Goodfellow. Foolish, but it is not something unexpected of you."

Puck chuckled heartily, and it boggled me how he could speak to such a creature as if they were old friends. He really _was _vastly different than me, but I wasn't willing to accept everything that he told had told me just yet. "Ha. I shouldn't underestimate your omnipotence, oh wise Grimalkin. Couldn't you put that to use? Like tell me what the winning lottery numbers are gonna be?"

I rolled my eyes, thinking, _Once again, why does he say shit like this?_ I jabbed him in the ribs with my sharp, bony elbow. I heard him squawk in pain but ignored him. "So, Gri-Grimalkin, since it seems like you know the situation, can you help us find the trod?"

_Wait. _

_He's obviously been following us long enough to have heard our circumstances. I haven't even _noticed _him until now, but I'm sure that he appeared from that silver blur I saw in the woods. _

_And I'm equally as positive that I've seen that blur before. Several times before. Once at Alex's house and once at the dance._

He'd not just been following us, but following _me_.

The cat flicked his tail again and gave me a cautious but curious glare. For someone who had been spying on me for weeks, he didn't seem to be very trusting. I glared back at him, which was probably not a good idea, in hopes to relay a message that I wasn't a human he should fuck with. He disregarded my look with a sly smile, one that was strategically hidden by the shadow of a tree branch. It seemed as if his smile had made the sun itself dimmer. "I'll help the both of you, but my services come at a price." He strolled from the tree he had been standing near to the center of the clearing, making sure to intently inspect some withering remnants of Puck's giant spider web before turning his attention to us. "Girl, you must offer me something in return for my helping you."

I squinted through the delicate mist that began to coat the ground, once again relaying a message that I didn't trust him. I clutched the thin fabric of my shirt. "Like what?" I asked, my fists now shaking from anger and fear, not shock.

The warm, humid day had turned muggy in a matter of seconds and now, an almost impossibly thick mist hung over us. I could still see the ground, the vibrant colors of some of the bushes, Puck's broad form, and Grimalkin's blazing eyes. The mist almost seemed to fit the situation, since Grimalkin and I were dancing around each other in circles, trying to continue the conversation while simultaneously debating whether we could trust the other. How could a cat be so smart and manipulative?

"I do not think that it is up to me, but you instead, to decide." He finally answered. I flinched when he blinked and temporarily disappeared from my sight completely. Puck seemed to believe in this cat, but I had no idea what he could do to me under the cover of such an ominous mist.

I decided that I had to rein this conversation under my control. If I haphazardly jumped and accepted any of his offers, he could end up intending something totally different and I could end up losing a first born baby or an eyeball. I decided that the safer option was to offer something myself. I thought of the perfect bargaining tool. "What about a sword? I have one back at our…camp." I couldn't find a better word for it. "In exchange for helping us, you can have that. The blade's rusted, but the hilt is beautiful and it's so old that it's _bound_ to be worth something."

Grimalkin scoffed, "Human, what makes you think that I need something with monetary value? I do not need money." He twisted around and walked in zig-zag lines until he was almost at our feet, looking at us directly. Puck scooted slightly closer to me, as if _he too_ was wary of Grimalkin. Or maybe he had noticed steam coming from my ears and was trying to comfort me so that I didn't explode. "A very interesting offer," Grim admitted, "but I refuse. I believe that the best way to determine your wager is to observe you and discover something that is of significant personal value to you. That is the kind of thing I would wager on."

"But you don't even know what the deal is?"

"And you cannot agree to it unless you decide to trust me. Quite the predicament, hm?"

The breeze I had felt earlier made a sharp return, but I was too focused on Grimalkin's knowing and vexing smile to react to it. I felt Puck's muscled arm graze mine and, no matter if that was or was not truly his intention, I instantly calmed down. I realized that we would keep playing tug-of-war until I thought this through more carefully.

I could not fully put my faith in Grim, not only because I had just met him and I hadn't even decided to fully trust Puck yet, but also because his entire demeanor sent a strange, cold shiver down my whole body. Yet, I couldn't receive help from him until I could be certain that he wouldn't want me to relinquish something completely ridiculous, like my first born, after he "offered his services."

Grimalkin's eye burned holes through the mist. "Do you agree to accept your fate when the time comes?"

_Does everyone in the NeverNever speak ambiguously like this? _I didn't like the use of the word 'fate,' but I was having a difficult time thinking of other options.

I felt Puck's hand gently grab my fingers, sparking another jump from me. He was clearly grooming me to accept Grim's offer, to feel more comfortable in this situation. I could…trust Puck, right? I mean, he had helped me several times before and, maybe, this was just another way of him reaching out his hand to guide me.

Although my stomach was flipping and I was nearly breaking into a cold sweat from the pressure, I confidently responded, "No matter what they are, I agree to the circumstances." _And again, what the hell am I getting myself into?_

Grim grinned, looking so damn creepy yet intriguing that I actually froze. His teeth sparkled behind the mist, but vanished as he slunk back to the narrow pathway from whence he came. Puck and I exchanged glances before hesitatingly following the mysterious cat.

Puck was still close to my arm, so I took the opportunity to grab his shirt, bringing his face closer to mine. "'Accept my fate?' What the hell does that mean? I whispered. When Puck wrapped his arm around my shoulders, being too personal as always, I was suddenly grateful that I had been able to wrestle on my clothes before this awkward situation arose.

"Hell if I know." He sighed, and it felt like his whole body was slumping. "Grim_ really_ confuses me sometimes. I mean, normally, he just does stuff that benefits him, like making the other person do a physical labor for him. But now, it seems like he just really wants to inconvenience you." Puck admitted blandly, barely noticing the grimace that plagued my face.

I groaned tiredly. I missed my relaxing bath and my tree root pillow. "Whatever. At least, I'll be home soon and then I won't have to confuse myself with this shit any longer."

Puck laughed. When I glared at him, he didn't stop. "Even when you go home, I doubt that you're gonna be forgetting about this any time soon."

Yes, I was still worried about the apparent effects of staying in the NeverNever, and I was scared of what realizations I would come to after deep analysis of what I had seen here. I wanted to know. I wanted to figure it all out. But maybe it was best to do that when I had a moment to actually relax, calm down, and think through it rationally.

_Which may not actually _happen_ until I get back home, but whatever._

Grim somehow knew where to find our encampment and, after grabbing my basket and sword, we continued walking in the complete opposite direction from whence Puck and I had been travelling until now. I began to protest, but Puck stopped me before I could by grabbing my arm and placing his index finger in front of his lips.

We walked for about two hours in anything but silence. When Grim wasn't scolding us for being slow, Puck was asking me questions about my life. About everything. I told him about school, about Alex, about what I did besides study. He found in fascinating that I knew so much about flowers and even asked me to demonstrate. I pointed to one of the near 300 species of irises, explained that the name meant 'rainbow' in Greek, and began to list off genotypes, like the _iris croatica_, _iris flavescens_, and _iris junonia_. I didn't understand how he could find me interesting when he was so used to morphing creatures and talking cats, but I entertained him nevertheless. This banter acted as a distraction from sorting through this situation, which I understood that my mind was not prepared for at the moment.

He even humored me with some interjections, like telling me what kinds of classes he enjoyed when he was still in school, demonstrating how he would have acted if he had been invited to a dance, and even calling Jenifer Kim a bitch. I hadn't even realized that I had started laughing until Puck gaped, like a kid receiving the best present ever.

"Success! I made you smile!" He cheered, lifting his arms in the air victoriously.

This dorkiness reminded me of Alex, which made me laugh even more. Damn, he was irritating.

The sky was growing dark with thick gray clouds and I thought sarcastically to myself just how _awesome_ it would be if, on top of all these problems, it also began to rain. The wind picked up a bit, rustling a few of the animals hidden in the trees, but I tried my best to ignore them.

Because my hair had dried naturally, not with a blow dryer, it was a frizzy, unintelligible mess, but at least I was clean. My clothes were clinging to my skin, not only because I had been sweating for hours, but also because I had completely forgotten to wash them while I had the opportunity. _Real savvy, Silvia._

Wanting to ignore Puck's enthusiasm at my expense, I turned my attention to Grim who was walking several yards ahead of us. Even though his legs were much smaller than ours, he seemingly glided on the ground to move faster than us. "So, how do you know where the trod is, Grimalkin…sir?" Was it proper to speak formal? I had no idea. "And while we're asking questions, can you tell me exactly how you can talk? I mean, I should already understand at this point that I don't understand _anything_, but…" I asked, walking at a faster pace to match his.

"I am a cat."

I paused.

_What the hell does that mean?_

"That doesn't answer my question." I argued, feelings of irritation welling up once again. _Was the whole concept of animals speaking too complex or something for a mere _human_ like me to understand, so there was no point in explaining it?_

Grim did not pause, but peered at me through squinted eyes. Although he was not facing forward, he dodged low-lying branches as if he had eyes on all sides of his head. "I am _different _from the cats you are used to, human. Here, cats are ancient, intelligent beings."

I could have argued about the ancient Egyptian ideology of cats being divine and royal beings instead of lowly house pets like modern humans use them as, but I digress. Besides, every sign that Puck gave me told me that I would be in much less danger if I veered toward Grimalkin's good side. I was smart enough and not socially awkward enough to avoid unwanted confrontation. "Okay. I'll remember that. But my name isn't 'girl' or 'human' or anything: it's Silvia."

"I know, Silvia Scott."

Puck interfered once again, probably perturbed by the rising tensions. "Woah, Grim! Color me impressed! How did you-"

"I am a cat." Grim was obviously growing exceedingly annoyed with us.

_Oh, please. We both know that the only reason you know my name is because you've been spying on me, _I thought spitefully. I would reveal no such thing, however, until I learned why he did it. I mean, I had plenty of skills, but I wasn't exactly planning on being a NeverNever terrorist. What would be another purpose to spy on a mostly normal human girl? What was in it for him?

Grim's intentions were masked just as well as our feet were in the thickening fog. Had it gotten worse? The trees grew paler but darker and the swirling fog made them appear to be moving. The sky was cold and gray and I forced myself to get over the fact that it_ was_ going to rain.

I was about to recommend that we find shelter before continuing on this blind journey, but I was afraid of Grim's wrath if I interrupted him again. I followed Grim otherwise silently, besides idle conversation with Puck. His constant jabbering was almost comforting. It was nice to have someone almost _human_ to talk to about just _anything_. It was surprisingly easy to ignore the large, pointy ears when he shielded them behind shiny red hair.

This pressure to vent and complain and converse was not normally something that I kept pent up; this was mainly because I never had too many feelings that I was willing or able to express. Every topic that I_ did_ give enough fucks about I discussed with Alex.

"Ugh, I love going in the water at the beach, but I sunburn so easily!" Puck whined, closing his eyes and rubbing the back of his neck as if he were currently suffering from the dreadful malady known as 'sunburn.' "Plus, you could stick me in a toaster, rub me in tanning oil, and lay me out to dry and, besides having a burn for a week or so, I'll _still _be pale when that fades."

I tripped over a branch before giving my retort. "Well, I live near Virginia Beach, but I never even go."

"Why not?"

I motioned to my body, including my muddy boots, sweat-stained t-shirt, scratches, and frizzy hair. "Do you think it's a good idea for someone that's as much of a mess as_ I_ am to go outside? The best tan I could possibly get is from a computer screen."

He snickered, "Well, I can't say I'm surprised. Ever since I first saw you bleeding and stumbling around the forest looking like a little kid lost in the supermarket, I haven't really pegged you as an outdoor person."

I felt a trickle as the rain finally began to fall, but the sound of wings fluttering as birds fled was louder than that of the actual storm. It was only a sprinkle for now, but I was even more urgent to find shelter.

Just as that thought passed through my head, I felt a pressure in my lower abdomen. _Oh, shit._ I stopped abruptly, causing Puck to stare at me with a concerned raised eyebrow. "Hey, why are we stopping, kid?"

I flushed, wishing that I could have avoided this forever. I held my basket in front of me, using it as a guard to hide my humiliation as I stuttered these words: "I… uh…I gotta go."

"Gotta go where?"

Are you fucking serious?

My legs twisted around one another as another feeling of pressure washed over me relentlessly. I bit my lip. I clenched my butt cheeks. Had I been so caught up in conversation that I hadn't noticed_ this_ sooner? Had the rain acted as some sort of initiating circumstance? "You know…_go_."

"My name's not 'go.' It's 'Puck.'" He grinned evilly.

"Stop_ fucking_ with me." I gritted a warning through clenched teeth as I watched a very pissed off Grim face us. The water dropping from sky and tall leaves rained down his fur, making him look significantly more threatening than any other talking cat. Puck was on Grim's good side, so I would let him break the news. "Tell Grim to wait up. I'll be over here." I nudged my shoulders toward a collection of bushes and tree roots that seemed to be safely hidden by a large fern plant. I couldn't believe that I was actually planning to this. I, who had _never_ used a lavatory unless welcomed by a cushy toilet seat. Not only was I not an outdoor person, I was also a teeny bit of a snob.

Okay, a _lot _a bit.

"Don't go too far, kid." Puck warned, but I waved him away as I scuttled into the bushes. I just hoped that he wouldn't spy on me.

I nestled into a suitable spot behind a large rock, far enough away that even I could barely see the muddled, hazy faces of Puck and Grim. I thought for a moment how the rain was actually beneficial for me, since the sound of raindrops would drown out the sound of…_you know_.

I glanced around, watching out for a bellicose bear or a peeping Puck. I delicately set down my basket and sword on top of the rock and unbuttoned my jeans. I was grimy enough from the last couple of days that this degrading feat was almost relaxing.

Suddenly, I heard a rustle to my left. I flinched. I hadn't heard an animal since the rain had started.

"Puck, if that's you, I'm seriously gonna kick your ass."

No answer.

Maybe…it isn't Puck? He _did _spend a lot of time telling me about the other unfriendly creatures in the Wyldewood. Unfriendly, d_angerous _creatures. Stealthily and quietly, I grabbed my sword clutching it tightly to the point that my right palm was sore. I wasn't sure whether I was preparing to fight or flee, but the sympathetic response hadn't quite kicked in yet. I was tense but ready. After a few moments of posing like a doofus, I relaxed and lowered my sword.

_Wow, I hadn't expected the paranoia to hit me this harshly and this quickly_. Although I could think of logical explanations to deny everything that Puck had told me, there was no doubt that this forest was doing strange things to me. I was punching trees and pumping adrenaline for nothing but an innocent rustle. And there was definitely a mysterious, perilous aura swarming throughout this forest, and it wasn't just the gloomy mist that lead me to that confusion.

Because of my heart temporarily stopping, I had forgotten my full bladder. I relieved myself on the mossy side of the rock, grimacing the whole time. There was no way to make it feel natural. To make matters worse, the only thing that I could use as toilet paper was a napkin from the basket. After wiping, I pulled up my sticky pants and headed back toward Grimalkin and Puck, sword and basket in both of my dirty hands. _Did I take too long? Are they worried? Is it okay to wash my hands with a wet leaf?_

Suddenly, a hand grabbed me by the waist.

I yelped, but was too scared to scream.

I struggled to free myself, continuing to mutter haggard and hoarse complaints and demands for release, but a hand covered my mouth. They didn't want me to make noise.

I was being kidnapped.

_And_ these bastards had watched me pee!

The attacker was behind me, gripping my chin with sweaty hands. I tried to bite his hand, raise my arms, slam my foot onto his, or elbow him in the crouch, but none of my attacks could reach. This attacker was an enormous, almost inhuman size. Another one of my squeals was muffled by his palm. The world moved faster than before. The rain had picked up.

"She's too noisy! _Do_ something!" The man holding me spat through his teeth. Another figure emerged from the shadows through the rain, raised a mossy rock over my head.

_Oh, God no. _

_This can't be happening_.

I struggled once more, hoping to force my weight on his fingers to break his grip—

But not before a sharp pain exploded onto my head. My captors struggled to muffle my screams of pain, as did several other partners in crime who appeared behind them. I thought that they were all holding swords, or something similar. My vision started to dwindle and all I could make out were the vertical lines of the pounding rain.

_Where's Puck with that concussion test?_

_A concussion? _

_Then, I have to stay awake, right?_

_Don't…fall…asleep…_

_Don't…_

Fade to black.

****Soooo…WE'RE BOTH BACK! Actually, we've been back for a while, thus we've been hanging out. And we're two people that can be productive when separate, but totally lazy when together. That was our weekend. We'll try to be faster, but it will be difficult because we're both gonna be working this summer (I'm actually working tomorrow, well, today, but I'm still staying up until 1 anyway 'cause I'm a bad child). I DO wanna finish a lot more of this before we head off to college, though!**

**Good news! My partner actually already WROTE chapter 19, I just have to add my own little touch and then edit it and then we should be good to go! See you later and sorry again that this took so long! I hope that everyone's having a really fun summer so far!****


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19

I awoke with a pounding headache and a stiff chest.

My eyes were watery, since I still had no choice but to keep my contacts in, and I could feel the rheum gathering in the corners of my eyes. My mouth was dry and overall disgusting. My ears were ringing, but I was conscious enough to think, _Okay, let's go over it. My name is Silvia Scott. I'm eighteen years old. I live in Chesapeake, Virginia. I am salutatorian of my high school class. My best friend's name is Alex Peirce._

I didn't dare open my eyes before I assured that I was cognizant and fully functional. I smelled the distinct potent fragrance of Sweet Pea and the cool, wet calm of nighttime. I heard animals chirping and calling and flapping wings and grunting from far away. I assumed that I had not only been asleep for a long time, but I was also in an unfamiliar place. Using my arms to prop myself up, I sat on my elbows and surveyed my location with squinted eyes. My eyes were still blurry, but I could at least make out indefinite shapes surrounding me.

I didn't have to struggle to recall what had happened this time. My memories flooded back in a resurgent wave. Those people attacked me. I remembered leaving Puck and Grimalkin to use the bathroom, then getting snatched up by them. My head was throbbing.

After repositioning my contacts, I could better analyze my location. I was in a small room that was only slightly larger than a cubicle. There were plants everywhere; on the walls, on the floor, in the cracks between them. That explained the glorious smell. I would have thought that I was outside if it wasn't for the presence of a large dresser, a mirror, and the uncomfortable bed I was laying on.

The window was too high to reach and the only other exit was a large, imposing wooden door. Was it locked? I stood up slowly to inspect that and was instantly placated by the soft plants on my feet. It was like walking on freshly cut grass. If I was kidnapped and most presumably a prisoner, why would they give me such a cushy room?

I caught a metallic gleam in my peripheral vision. My sword was laying on the grass next to the wooden dresser. Why would kidnappers leave me a weapon? I mean, a fucker like me doesn't know how to use it, but recklessness can cause damage, too. Although I was baffled by my kidnappers' negligence, I reached for my sword. When I grasped the morphed gold and caught my refection between the batches of rust on the blade, an unfamiliar exhilaration shivered up my spine.

"I _told_ you it's her!" I jumped at the high pitched shout and almost dropped my sword as I spun on my heels. My eyes met those of two children, both of whom were staring at me from the window. How had they gotten up so high? Was this room underground or something? Wait, why am I thinking about this?

What I _should_ have been focusing on was how familiar these two kids looked. "Y-You're—?!"

"See! I told you, Soren! We found her!" It was a boy and a girl. The girl's round face held a spectacular grin as her eyes fell onto me. They were mysterious. Those green orbs had no pupils. Her hair resembled a garden, raining down from the open window into the room. It blended well with the sweet pea plants covering the walls. The boy beside her seemed more guarded and suspicious; he seemed to look right through me with those sparkling yellow eyes. They matched his delicate golden hair that flopped over pale blue skin. He bit his lip as we stared at each other.

How could I _not_ recognize them immediately? The last time I saw them was at the dance, where they had both been floating off the ground.

I blinked before mumbling, "You're the cosplayers from the dance. The ones that Alex was talking to!" My voice had grown deeper, as if I was growling. It was improper to end a sentence with a preposition, but I disregarded that. Why was everything coming together so well? Grim had been spying on me back home and now these kids showed up that were talking to Alex? What the hell was _that_ about anyway?

I remembered Puck's hypothesis that Alex _knew_ he was taking me to the NeverNever. Although, at the time, I had ignored him, undeniable evidence of Alex's preconceived plan was gazing at me with pupil-less eyes. I could no longer overlook his role in dragging me here.

Alex definitely knew more than I had originally assumed.

The girl hastily squeezed herself through the opening of the window and the boy begrudgingly followed her. I gaped as she floated off of the ground while her brother sat crossed-legged in mid-air. I watched them in awe. They clearly were not human. Whether they were projections or my imagination or whatever, they were beautiful.

The girl hovered over to the mattress and tilted her head to the side, giving me an odd smile. "Cosplayers? What's that?" Her tangle of leafy locks flowed over the mattress onto the floor and reached my toes. It smelled of lilacs. She sat like a perfect lady with her palms on her knees and straight posture. It wasn't just their appearances that made me extremely curious of her and the boy. Although unsure why, I stumbled over to her, carefully avoiding stepping on her hair, and took a seat next to her. Her bright orange skin lit up the room, making it seem like noon even though it was late at night.

I ignored her first question, knowing that that would only spark a more ridiculous, off-topic conversation. "Who are you?" I croaked before awkwardly clearing my throat. I wasn't going to avoid the elephant in the room. They must have known that I had seen them before, whether I was correct about their identity or not.

"Me?" The girl jumped off of the mattress, causing it to shake and shift. She twirled in the air excitedly then curtsied cutely. "My name is Mae!" _Mae? Like the month May?_ And this—" She grabbed the boy, who had been staying a safe distance away, and shoved him toward me. He looked flustered as he, too, bowed. "—Is my brother Soren! Well, actually he's not _really_ my brother. At least, I don't _think_ so, but maybe he could be, since you know, we look so simi—"

"Mae and Soren . Got it." I interrupted. I could already tell that interacting with this girl was going to be draining, but I was willing to be docile and even _cooperative_ if they would help me escape. "It nice to meet you both." I gave them a genuinely civil smile. Was I overestimating them? I mean, they_ did_ only look like kids. However, I they were both supposedly fae, how was I truly to know their ages? I mean, Puck looked to be about nineteen or twenty years old, even though he claimed to have existed since 16th century England. Maybe even before that.

"Look Soren!" Mae blushed and covered her mouth with both hands, as if she was meeting One Direction in person. "He was right! Silvia _is_ prettier in person!"

"Yeah, but she's all dirty." Soren whispered as he climbed onto the bed to join us. He refused to look at me in the eye, but his face was stuck in a constant anxious scowl, complete with pursed lips and crooked brows. This kid was either shy as hell or did not like me for _whatever_ reason. But, if they were in any way involved with Alex, they would help me, right?

I wasn't used to people calling me 'pretty,' mostly because I didn't talk to people and Alex was too awkward to give me a compliment that wasn't in regards to my useless knowledge or video game skills. "Um, thanks, Mae. I _do_ have a question, though: could you tell me where I am? I'm thoroughly confused."

Mae settled back down onto the, lying with her belly on her brother's lap. She peered up at me hungrily, like a preppy girl during a conversation about the newest episode of _Teen Wolf._ "You're in the Seelie Court. Oh, I guess that hasn't been explained to you yet, huh? I'm not sure of the details, but apparently there's been an increase of human activity near one of the trods in the Wyldewood. It's making everybody really tense 'cause they haven't actually seen any humans entering recently. The trod's in Seelie territory, so you were captured and are probably gonna be interrogated. By 'interrogated,' I mean tried for crimes against the Seelie Kingdom, but there's _no_ way they'll find you guilty of anything. I mean, they can't 'cause you haven't _done_ anything…but, you know," She glanced quickly at my sword. "the ancient sword doesn't work in your defense."

Once again, why were people taking a helpless human with a crappy old sword so seriously? I believed her for now because Puck had done an adequate job the night before explaining the situation between the courts. Puck had advised me of the increased trod activity and even _why_ the king of the Seelie court would be worried about the humans. But what could I do by myself? Did they really expect that I knew something? I wasn't sure if I could talk my way out of this.

What was most mysterious was the fact that no human had been spotted or captured before me. If there had been such an increase in human activity in that specific trod, how could not one of those humans have been caught, especially when every creature in the Wyldewood seemed perfectly capable of and prone to sniffing out human flesh? Maybe the Seelie court was eager to discover the reason for that as well. How would I wriggle myself out of this disaster when I didn't even have the charismatic skills to make friends in school?

_Shit, Puck. Where the hell are you when I need you?_

I clenched my fists, trying not to think of how unfair this all was. Why was I here? Why did Alex take me here?

_That's it._

"You know Alex, right? Where is he?!" I lunged forward and clamped onto Mae's slender arm, which felt more human than I had expected. She seemed caught off guard, but not perplexed. Soren shifted away from me, only verifying my assumption that he not only didn't like me, but he didn't even want to touch me.

Mae beamed from ear to ear and plopped her hands onto both of my shoulders. She nodded reassuringly. She knew where he was! My load seemed to lighten at her encouragement. _So, I can go back home! I can be with Alex again!_

"I don't know!" She replied enthusiastically, as if she thought that that was _exactly_ what I had wanted to hear.

My life force fled my body as I released her arm. I smashed my face into the mattress, my mind not even capable of imagining how things could get any worse. "Ugh...this sucks." I grumbled despondently . I sniffed the mattress and shot up, frantic to evade the dreadful smell imprisoned in those sheets. What kind of place was I in anyway? A single door, a high window, a tiny room, and a smelly mattress?

I was in a prison cell. At least I wasn't sleeping on the ground, but who knows if I wouldn't be sleeping with the fishes by tomorrow?

A hand gingerly patted my head, but I was too obstinate and embarrassed to look up. "It's okay, Silvia. We already sent word to Alex that you're here. He's been looking everywhere for you, so he'll _definitely _come and get you!"

I looked up finally and faced a bushel of Sweet Pea. I flipped around so that I was sitting beside the mattress on the grass floor, my neck resting on the mattress' edge. My eyes must have looked glossed over as my mind sped up to her pace. "But, you _just _said you didn't know where he was." I complained, wondering if this girl was fucking with me or was just that _daft_.

"We don't know, but Equuleus does!"

"Who's Equu-"

"Mae! They're coming!" I lifted my heavy head and spotted Soren by the door. His tender blue hand was situated on the wooden door. I hadn't even noticed him move.

Mae frowned and her eyes grew into a forest green. She flew off of the bed, her hair following her like a cape. Soren's leafy yellow hair fluttered in a wave as he escaped through the window. He ushered to his sister with pleading eyes. With half of her body out the window, Mae looked over her shoulder anxiously. "We'll come back, Silvia. Alex told us one thing, though: when they come for you, _hold onto_ that sword, no matter _what_! Okay?"

Before I could even respond, Mae had disappeared through the window into the night air. I heard two soprano voices shout "Goodbye," and then the room went silent.

"_Keep_ the sword?" I glanced across the grass at the rusty claymore. Yes, it was important to me because it was the first thing I found after arriving in the NeverNever or wherever the hell this was, but it _couldn't_ have been of any practical use,_ especially_ in a fight. And even if it possiblycould have been, I wasn't intrepid to take it for a test run. My eyes swam across the sword and I laughed disparagingly. "Oh, hello Seelie fae. Wanna get some tetanus?" I imitated thrusting the sword at combatants and found almost a sick pleasure in doing so. I urged myself to stop. _How immature._

But I heeded Mae's words and shoved the sword into two of my jean belt loops. I probably looked like a child pretending to be a knight. Only then did I notice the state of my clothing. I had lost my belt somehow. My sheer purple top was essentially in shreds and the parts that weren't ripped or hanging off were coated and caked in grass and mud. Had they _dragged_ my unconscious body here or something? My jeans were more intact, besides a few scratches, holes, rips, and stains, making them resemble distressed jeans. My dark brown boots were noticeably spotless. I didn't even want to know what my wild hair looked like.

I saw my wicker basket hidden between the dresser and the back wall. I stripped off my purple top and dug out Alex's slick blue rain jacket from the basket. I considered consuming a sandwich before whoever was 'coming' that Soren had frenzied about actually arrived, but thought how unprecedented it would be to be picked up with a mouth full of turkey. Immediately after I had finished zipping up the jacket and, despite the heat inside the room, there was a clamor from outside.

Suddenly, the door swung open and crashed against the adjacent wall. Three burly fae entered my room, all of whom were various shades of red and wore polished suits of armor. Their upper bodies were disproportionally engorged, but rather than their wide shoulders, I focused on the deadly spears that each of them was wielding. They would have seemed much more intimidating if it wasn't for the pointy ears and the glistening bald heads. I thought that in order to boost my confidence, but I was literally shaking in my boots as they gathered themselves into the cell, all of their beady eyes on me.

"Get up, human!" One of them grunted, sounding like a wild hog. He pointed his spear at my chest and his cohorts mimicked him. For a moment, I froze. "_Now_, human!" He lunged toward me and I shut my eyes, fearing that he actually would stab me. Reluctantly and with a quickening heart rate, I stood from the grassy bed and made a feeble attempt to conceal the sword at my side. It only made my weapon more obvious.

"She's got a weapon!" Another guard lumbered towards me, his hand outstretched in order to seize my sword. I instinctively stepped backward, avoiding the confrontation.

"Sinda!" The guard who had maliciously aimed his spear at me now used it to block his fellow guard. "Remember your orders. _Don't _touch that sword."

_What? Why the fuck not? _It felt like every person knew something that I didn't, but maybe I was overestimating these simple guards as well. I assured myself that speaking obscenely in this risky situation would only place me in greater danger, so I committed to total silence, no matter how many whimper threatened my lips.

Sinda growled at me but obediently listened to the apparently superior guard. The guards opened a path for me to exit then forced me to walk faster by jabbing their spears into my back. One stayed behind me constantly while the other two blocked me on both sides. They smelled awful and kept me in such confined quarters that I actually felt claustrophobic. I kept a tight grip on my sword the entire time, no matter how often I tripped over stairs and cracks in the walkway. Although I was scared and uncomfortable, I wasn't reckless enough to attempt an escape with so much security. I would either have to wait and plan or wait and hope that Alex or Puck or _someone_ would come to save me.

The underground prison seemed to continue forever. I had a front seat to this miraculous but menacing castle that I was being housed in. The guards escorted me through a maze of hallways and paths, all similar to the room where I was held. Plants sprouted out from the walls and diverse flower species adorned the walls. I couldn't help but notice fellow prisoners, some of whom were so disgusting that I had to divert my eyes. Some of them looked like they came out of some stress-and-drug-induced nightmare. Finally, the cold-eyed guards forced me up a stairwell and into the open.

I breathed in clean nighttime air and detected the coppery scent of rain. The ground off of the stone pathway was wet and bursting with outstanding foliage: a vibrant garden of trees, vines, and flower beds. Small animals rummaged through the plants, but all of them fled when my guards paraded by. We passed by tall hedges paired with Corinthian columns for several more twisting _miles. _Yet, even though this was such a massive castle, there were no other fae roaming this path. Where _were_ we?

After what felt like hours of walking, we found a large, grand wooden door that was at least three stories tall. It, too, was shrouded by vines and flowering plants, but I barely had time to admire it. The guards rapped thrice on the right door and, barely a moment later, the doors burst open with a loud crack. They revealed a large open area that exploded with liveliness. There was a roar of laughter mixed with music, the sound of stomping feet and complacent chatter. I saw a variety of creatures enjoying themselves, some that were tremendously stunning and others that were nauseatingly filthy. Every color of the rainbow was represented. Fae covered in green fur wore gowns of bright blue. Fae with wild pink hair wore garments of liquid gold.

The walls were adorned with flowery decorations and swirling stone. They consisted of many colors and styles, ultimately summing up every chapter of Art History into one structure. The hall was in a squinch format and each of the eight corners opened with horseshoe arches and led to illogically long hallways. A triptych stretched the entire length of the back wall. Two thrones of equal size and decadence sat at the head of the hall, but I could not properly make out the figures resting in those chairs. The walls were lined with lights made from candles and trapped lightning bugs and I was conflicted as to whether or not I should be astonished or disgusted. The large ceiling was covered in a glorious fresco painting of mystical creatures, which was, of course, horribly appropriate. Although we were clearly surrounded by thick walls, a bit of the nighttime air rushed into the hall via an oculus in the center of the fresco.

It was truly a feast for the eyes, but although these strange entities fascinated me, I still feared what I didn't know. At that moment, I had no idea what my fate would be.

When I entered with my escorts, a group of satyrs stopped dancing and whistled in my direction. I shivered. Suddenly, as if that whistle had been a warning siren, the room grew incredibly quiet. As if I was in a movie, every single eye of every single shape sequentially found me. The only sounds were my footsteps, my harsh, nervous breaths, and hushed whispers of onlookers.

"That's the human?"

"Ha. She's so tiny."

"Why is her skin so pale?"

"Disgusting."

I could feel nothing but blistering, angry, suspicious stares from the party-goers. They all probably suspected me of some kind of espionage, even though I was obviously _scared _out of my _wits_. Fuck adapting quickly. How could I even wrap my mind around this series of events to react accordingly? I kept my face as cool and passive as possible: something I was _very_ skilled at. _Don't say anything, Silvia. Don't do anything that could get you killed. In case you don't remember, there's a guy with a spear at your back._

I successfully held back from lashing out at those who had protested and insulted me, but was unable to enjoy my menial moral victory as the guards unexpectedly halted. The one with the outstretched spear grabbed my jacket hood, forcing me to stop as well. All three of them went through the same motion of shifting to one knee and bowing their heads before the two towering thrones. I stood gawkily as everyone else in the room mimicked similarly gracious bows. All of the people who had been critiquing me earlier grew quiet as the whole room seemed to settle with an air of respect, chivalry, and fear. I wondered if I should have bowed as well in order gain favor as my eyes focused on the large figures sitting upon those leafy thrones.

The male had long, silvery hair and a distinctly angular face. His amber gaze fell onto mine while his face remained stoic and detached. Although his years showed through his eyes, they also emitted a strong aura of majestic duty and power. His body was thin and glowed like morning dew. I couldn't determine how tall he was because his legs disappeared behind a jewel encrusted red frock. His cape was spun from thousands of tree branches, somehow lying flat against his stately form.

The female next to him was strikingly beautiful. Hair that shimmered with both silver and blonde streaks graced her shoulders and her delicate body. Her cape resembled that of the king, but was infused with small golden flowers. Her confident expression contorted into a malicious sneer with her eyes settled on me. Her eloquent but daunting aura was so strong that I didn't dare look into her eyes. I could spot her sharp curves beneath a dazzling magenta dress. Both of them clearly sat together, but were leaning away from each other in their own thrones, as though those feelings of malice were not solely aimed at me.

All of the crazy things that Puck told me collected so effortlessly in my mind that I wondered for a moment if I truly was sane anymore. The Seelie Court. Puck. _A Midsummer Night's Dream._

"O-Oberon and Titania..." I murmured, but was silenced when another sharp jab pushed me toward the Seelie King and Queen. I stumbled forward a few feet but couldn't face up.

The Queen who had fought with her husband over keeping an Indian boy as her own and was the original intended victim of the love potion. The King Oberon who had ordered Puck to give Demetrius the love potion that led to the plot of the play. The most influential characters of the _worst_ piece of literature I had ever read.

Could I even _think_ that, anymore? Now that it was coming to fruition? I couldn't help but doubt myself.

They glared at me as if they knew what I was thinking. Everyone was glaring at me.

_I'm so fucked._


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter 20

When the Seelie King opened his mouth, I learned what it meant to have my blood run cold.

I felt like all of my limbs had been asleep and were waking up at the same time. I felt like my body had literally frozen and I couldn't move it, even if I had wanted. For possibly the first time in my life, my mind was blank. I was shaking. I felt an electric shock course through my body. 50,000 volts.

I wanted to ask, to beg, to plead that this wasn't real. But the way my body reacted to the Seelie royalties' imposing presence was undeniable. Oberon gazed at me with empty eyes. Without even gathering a breath, he shouted with a booming voice that could have shattered the walls.

"Who are you, human?"

I held my tongue. I could feel a thousand eager eyes sticking to my skin, but it wasn't just because of these greasy onlookers and my own social awkwardness that my mouth was glued shut.

My first night in the NeverNever, despite my complaints, Puck had talked for hours about what to do and what not to do to stay alive. I could hardly comprehend what he was telling me, but he made sure to get my attention for one interesting tidbit.

While sitting next to each other by the fire, he had suddenly grabbed both of my cheeks, forcing me to face him. When are faces were barely inches apart, I tried to settle my racing heart by reminding myself of how crazy this dude was. But that's not the point. With an unwavering stare, he said in his delightfully gruff voice, "Don't give your name away as easily as you did with me. A name is a powerful thing in the NeverNever. I know you don't understand, but just trust me."

I had lifted a suspicious eyebrow, "How can I believe you when basically the first thing you did was ask for my name?"

"I was giving you a concussion test on _your _request! You really have some trust issues."

"I still have fewer issues than you."

"Ouch! That was harsh."

While I was reminiscing, the court had grown more impatient with my silence. There was incessant chatter from all sides; some of them spoke in ways that I could understand while others spoke with such _odd_ dialects or voices that they could have been speaking completely different languages. _Ha! Another flaw in your logic, Puck! If the NeverNever consists of creatures that have been imagined by people all over the world, then wouldn't they speak the language of their respective creators? Yet, they all seem to be speaking English?_ I was celebrating this pathetic logical achievement in my head while the Seelie fae were growing more and more apprehensive. How long had it been since they had asked for my name? I caught an icy glare from Titania and was thrown back into reality. Oberon shifted uneasily in his seat.

"You have been asked for your name, human! Answer!" Titania spat, her voice laced with venom. I spotted her long manicured nails digging streaks into her magnificent throne. Her face contorted in such a way that I didn't think possible for a woman as beautiful as herself. Well, I had always thought of Titania as a bitch, so this kind of forceful behavior didn't startle me.

I remained voiceless and kept a tentative grip on my sword. I figured that there was something spectacular about this sword if the fae refused to touch it and maybe—just maybe—it wasn't only perilous for the _guards_. Maybe it was my trump card. I would never let them take it away from me. Mae and Soren—no—_Alex_ had told me that.

Outraged by my stubbornness, the exalted Queen Titania actually rose from her seat. Her dignified form demanded respect as her long body rose slowly and gracefully from that decorated throne. While that movement was beautiful, her eyes were shining with the bloodlust of a wild animal. I evaded her eyes, but the image in the ceiling fresco that they fell upon was of a gorgon with an equally visceral glower. The temperature in the delightfully bright and lively room seemed to drop by fifty degrees.

King Oberon, thankfully, held up his hand to avoid the oncoming disaster. "Sit, Titania!" His Queen hesitated and shivered with anger before returning to her seat. Oberon's soft amber eyes found my lavender ones. "A name is powerful, human, but heed not. It will not be used against you by any of the respectable fae present in this court."

_What am I? A convict being read the Miranda Rights?_

I contemplated Oberon's words and, despite Puck's warning, relented. "My name is Silvia Scott." Initially, I feared that I had not spoken loud enough until I saw Oberon deliberately nod. The Seelie fae seemed to come back to life once order was restored.

"And why are you in the NeverNever, Silvia Scott?" Oberon inquired, completely emotionless.

I had opened the door for docile discussion by at least speaking, but I was once again overcome by a feeling that could only be described as stage-fright. "I-I don't know. I was brought here." Was that too much? Too little? I knew what they wanted to hear: that I came for the destruction of the NeverNever or whatever. I had to phrase everything that I said carefully because I knew what would happen if I didn't. They would take what they wanted to hear out of everything that I said, even if what I said had nothing to do with their suspicions. I wish I had Puck and his annoying but fantastic charm whispering in my ear, advising me on what to say.

Titania spoke harshly, "By _whom_?"

Wait. Wasn't Puck the royal jester for the Seelie King and Queen? Why was he not here, then? I hadn't even seen him! Had he deserted me?

"Answer, human!" A guard jabbed me again from behind with the butt of his spear and I stumbled gawkily to the ground. I was reminded of the innumerable wounds and bruises on my legs and arms. I bit my lip to stifle my howl of pain and my twisted expression actually made a few of those sick fae grin with expectation.

My claymore fell from my belt loops and clambered to the incrusted marble floor. It stopped spinning at the foot of the pedestal where Oberon and Titania's thrones stood. I scrambled to retrieve it, feeling completely helpless without the comfort of the rusty metal by my side. I was inches away from grasping my weapon when one of the guards grabbed my jacket's hood. He yanked me backward so that I was pulled onto my ass, inflaming even more latent injuries.

"What the hell?" I growled, struggling to be released from his grip despite knowing how futile that was beneath his beefy arms.

Oberon and Titania's gaze narrowed onto my sword at their feet. Their dazzling eyes widened as my body grew cold. With an intensive gaze on my sword, Oberon muttered something that I could barely make out, "Can it really be?"

From then on, everything moved slowly. Sinda left our awkward formation and hobbled forward in his clunky metal armor to reach the sword. Before bending down to apprehend it, he did not refrain from sneering haughtily in my direction, to which I replied with barred teeth. A guard behind me made a terse grunt of warning, but Sinda was not cautious. Suddenly, he howled in pain as the sword fell from his grasp, landing with an earth-shattering crash onto the marble floor. After the clanging had reverberated throughout the entire hall, an imprecise but collective gasp filled the room. Everyone had heard the sword, but was staring at Sinda.

His palm was coated with black, charred skin. He gaped at his burn and howled once more, overcome with surprise and outrage. The guard directly behind me, out of pure shock, released his grip on my jacket hood and I fell roughly onto my knees. I sat there, staring into space. I felt like I was drunk: my body was heavy, my mind was slow, everything only made half-sense. What had happened? Had the_ sword_ done that to him? Is that why the guards were advised to not touch my sword?

The sword landed closer to my position after Sinda released it. I unconsciously lunged for it, wanting it by my side once again, but paused. Would the sword do the same thing to me? I had been touching it with my bare skin only a moment before. Had it changed? It was _impossible._ _I should really stop telling myself that. That's the only thing that I'm never right about._

While I was dealing with inner turmoil, I hadn't noticed Sinda, the other guards, and the Seelie fae glowering at me. I flinched before my body stiffened, fearing that they would rip me apart if I made any sudden movements. A few other red-skinned, cartoonish, armor-clad guards had ascended from the crowd of people in order to aim their spears meticulously at my heart. I was entirely surrounded.

"Um, that wasn't me." I indicated pathetically.

"Halt, guards." Oberon commanded with a voice as deep as a canyon. The guards reluctantly lowered their spears to their sides, sharing mixed faces of duty and dissatisfaction. A roar of whispers erupted from the room as I gradually reached down and snapped up my sword before someone else attempted to stall me.

Tatiana shamefully exposed her gaping face as her eyes remained glued to the claymore in my hand. She was clutching her cape so vehemently that I believed it would rip. Oberon remained completely still. His stoic face remained blank, but not as pompous. It seemed as if he was trying to convince himself of what he was about to announce.

"It seems that the sword Excalibur has accepted a new wielder."

_What?_

I glanced at the rusty sword in my hands and muffled the cry of rebuttal and astonishment that threatened to escape. This claymore with intricate gold leaf but a grimy, rusty blade couldn't _possibly_ be anything spectacular, no matter how old it was!

_Excalibur? Like the King Arthur Excalibur? Yeah, okay. _

The Seelie fae were silent. The only noises in the court were the chirping of birds far above our heads and the trickling of a fantastic waterfall in the eastern part of the room. They were possibly unsure how to react, which I could understand. Were they to uproar? To scream and yell? To shout and throw a celebration because of the great sword's return?

Titania was in the same baffled dilemma, but she was the first to make a choice as to her reaction. She stood from her lofty throne, her eyes locked on Oberon's. "It cannot be true. It simply cannot! This dirty, disrespectful, little _swine_ could _not_ be the wielder—"

"Would you _stop_, already?"

Titania's glorious face turned to me, hatred blazing in her eyes brighter than the summer sun. Odium. Abhorrence. Detestation. Revulsion. Loathing. The feeling from her gaze wasn't subtle enough to be summarized with only one word, but potent enough to occupy several pages. She looked to me as if I was a measly ant that had suddenly declared my overtaking of the Seelie kingdom. I recognized that look.

Because it reminded me of the same emotions—the same blind hatred—that had swarmed my mind the last time I saw my mother.

I lifted my head and, despite knowing the possible repercussions, made eye contact with the Devil Queen. "Just because I'm human or a child or whatever does _not_ mean you have the right to insult me! Nobility or not! Do you think you're my fucking mother?"

_As the adult of the household, I have to take care of you, but my social life shouldn't have to suffer._

"You have no idea what it's like to actually work for anything, yet you so easily judge me because my clothes are a little dirty and I'm not _from_ here?"

_You never say 'thanks' for what I do. You just expect it. _

"I didn't come here to fuck with your cushy imaginary lifestyles! Trust me; I'm leaving this place as _soon_ as I get the chance!"

_The second I leave through that threshold with a bag in my hand, I am not coming back!_

My eyes now battling tears, I decided to end my mindless rant. I was breathing heavily and my right hand, which had been holding so-claimed 'Excalibur,' was pulsating with blood and fury. I had no idea what had possessed me to scream out those abuses and I wasn't sure if I was confident about what I said or if I regretted it, but I didn't _care_. Everything that I said had come out so easily.

Like I had said it before.

As if I was prostrating and pleading for death, I added a simple caveat. "Titania, you're so beautiful. Why do you have to ruin it by being such a bitch?"

Titania was still for almost too long. The crowd watched hungrily, waiting to see how the classless Queen would address this challenge from me, a daring and stupid human. As her face grew into a deeper red, I repented to the point of considering suicide. That would have been a better ending than what I was expecting.

"You little _swine_." She whispered coarsely, her eyes burning with gold. "You…dirty…swine!" The air around her form seemed to glow, a color that seemed to be a mix of all. I couldn't identify it as an aura because, as a woman of logic, I couldn't say that I believed in those. However, she was definitely being moved by something that was gathering fiercely around her body.

I knew that that menacing radiance would be my demise.

"I'll turn you into a pig and have my cooks serve you for a feast!" She roared.

I held 'Excalibur' with all my might, uncertain of what to do next. I couldn't ask for help. Not only would it defy my personal morals, but there was no one present who was able or _willing_ to assist me. Not Alex. Not Grim. Not Puck.

I thought of my mom. How convenient that my dead mother would be my last thought.

I felt a new presence surround me as the glow from Titania's body leaped toward me. I heard a rushing sound and closed my eyes. My body was enclosed by an unusual pressure.

My sword grew lighter.

"How can—?"

The pressure disappeared so swiftly that I couldn't truly remember what it had felt like. An electric chill sparked up my arm to the rest of my body. It was the arm that was holding my sword. The shining 'Excalibur.'

I struggled for words and couldn't even come up with a grunt. The _sword_ had done that. Whatever magic Titania had intended for me was dispersed. It had disappeared. And there must not have been a coincidence that this rusty old sword was radiating with the same type of mysterious light.

Oberon chuckled heartily, despite his wife's blatant rage. "'Tis truly a magnificent sword. It can even absorb glamour."

Glamour? What was glamour? Had Puck told me about that? What did Oberon mean that the sword absorbed it? How was it even possible for a sword to absorb _anything_, let alone something intangible? Despite the obvious powers it had, like warding off fae, how could this crappy claymore _possibly_ be Excalibur?

As if I wasn't disturbed enough, I heard a muffled laughter and my ears perked. My head rose slowly, deliberately, and intermittently enough that it should have been accompanied by a ticking noise. One glance at Oberon's subtle grin and amused eyes and I felt the pressure of a wild tornado. The warm, gleeful court room suddenly had the feeling of a prison cell. "How interesting," The King cooed. "A human who not only wields the famous Excalibur, but also a fiery attitude. It would be a shame to kill you; however, it would also be a shame to let you go." Why was he looking at me like I was a dessert?

"I believe you would do very well as my pet."

No one in the room dared to react. Not even Titania, despite the obvious complaints that she was hiding behind a puffed out lip. The cavernous room was quiet once again, but this time with a curious stillness. What would this psychotic, possessive king do with me? Was anybody even coming to save me?

I couldn't feel my feet against the floor. Overwhelmed would only describe an inkling of the bedlam in my head. I was alone and, for once, I had no idea what to do. I saw King Oberon' mouth move, but I was deaf to his words. The world was filled with a high-pitched blur, like a profound scene of intensity in an action movie. I saw the king wave his fingers at the guards, motioning for them to return me back to whence I came. The guards lifted me off the ground with the tenderness of a pack of rhinoceroses and commenced dragging me back down the processional row.

I met the eyes of a variety of onlookers. Some seemed sympathetic, knowing that I would become the pathetic pet of a potentially psychotic and relentless king. Others wore grimaces, as if simply being near a human or someone that smelled as appalling as I did was enough to spread diseases. Many fae, however, evaded my eyes. They shied away, some even stepping backwards as I made my way to the hall's entrance. They didn't even bother to give me sympathy or an expression.

I was nothing of importance to them. Just a convenient little human with a powerful sword that, as far as I knew, King Oberon considered to be under his control. I wasn't a friend or a guest or even a homely visitor. I was a prisoner. A pet.

A nothing.

The humid but breezy night air would have been refreshing on any other occasion, but it could not alleviate my fears in the slightest. Throughout the entire walk back to my room, which could more accurately be classified as a _cell_, my eyes didn't leave my feet. As beautiful as the castle and the gardens were, I couldn't enjoy it how I had wanted to. All of those beautifully colored flowers suddenly were pale and lifeless. My footsteps echoed so clearly that it seemed as if someone had put the volume on the television to the highest level. Like the speakers were booming and about to explode. Like I was standing under a waterfall.

I didn't even have the energy to comment when the guards shoved me back into my cell, followed by some snickers and the tight slamming of the large wooden door. I sat on that mellow green grass for minutes or maybe hours. I didn't know or care.

_Mom, why is dad packing up his things?_

_Dad's going away for a while, sweetie._

_On work again? But he just came back from a trip. _

_No, this…isn't for work. You're father's going to be living somewhere else until he can…be _normal _again._

_How long will that be for?_

_I don't know._

Although everything was so different and strange and overwhelming and scary, I was amazed that I could feel some things that were so heart-wrenchingly familiar.

Being lost. Confused. Fearful. Alone. Yet, no matter how awful I felt, trying to keep up a strong front was always my first priority.

I buried my head in my hands. What if that crumbled? What if I broke down? Would that fear and confusion and loneliness come pouring out of me? If that was the case, would anyone want to be near me? To be with the sad, pathetic, father-less, helpless little girl? I had to support my crumbling family because no one else could. I had work hard for myself because, otherwise, who else _would_?

_Don't worry, mommy. I'll always take care of you._

I lied on that rock-hard bed and sighed emptily, trying not to think about escape plans or danger or my eminent involuntary servitude. I thought of my mom, my dad, Alex, Alma, Ryan, and the gorgeous wafting scent of flowers that engulfed me as I drifted into a dream-less sleep.


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter 21

The first day of my imprisonment in Oberon's kingdom did not present favorable or even tolerable conditions. I tried to squeeze information out of my guards when they were sending me back to my cell, but was only met with spiteful frowns and neglect. I couldn't blame them. One of their own had been burned by the sword that I was innocently holding in my right hand. As helpless as I must have looked, they were probably scared of me on some level. As much as I would have loved to take advantage of that inkling of fear, I was too timid myself to think of a clever ruse or plan.

I had no choice but to rely on the flighty fae siblings and my best friend that was currently MIA.

Most _definitely _unfavorable conditions.

After they very literally_ tossed_ me into my cell, I scrambled on the floor into the fetal position. It was just a dream. I would get out soon. Alex was looking for me. I filled my head with positive thoughts, despite the heavy weight on my heart. I was too smart to believe that things would work out. I could only hope that this all was, in fact, a dream.

However, deep in my mind, I knew that harboring such thoughts was a deadly kind of foolishness.

I awoke to a grumbling, begging stomach. I hadn't eaten all day and it was already mid-afternoon, as I could tell by the position of the sun outside of my window. What would I eat? I doubted that the guards could give me a decent meal, or one at all. What _could_ I eat anyway? Fae food was poisonous to me. My stomach gave another pained groan and I grasped it.

Next to me, sitting on her heels with a straight back, was the bright, beaming yellow face of Mae. I jumped up and backed away until I recognized the enthusiastic intruder. My contacts were really no help to me at this point because of the damage they had suffered.

"Hi-ya!" Mae piped, looking like she was packed with enough energy to power the entire city of Toyko. "How was the meeting with the king? Anything interesting to report? Huh? Huh? Huh?" With each word, Mae's face grew closer to mine until I had to back away in order to breathe.

"Um…" How was I to phrase this? "Not well, I guess. He's keeping me here. For how long? I don't know. But I…found out that my sword is…well, it's stupid to say—"

"It's Excalibur. We know."

I raised my head with a bemused look. My expression was enough to span a million questions. _How did you know? Why didn't you tell me? Is that why you told me to keep in with me at whatever cost?_

She shrugged, "It's not like we found out by ourselves." She lifted her light, winged self into the air and floated in a criss-cross position. Her face was crinkled, as if she was thinking too intensely, almost comically, about something. "Our employer knows everything. I mean, like, _everything_. We just follow instructions. And Alex too 'cause he's our favorite, even though I'm still not sure how everything works out. We just know that it does."

I thought of my position and the anxiety and uneasiness I was harboring in this cell. About my dangerous hope and my ridiculous attempt at positive visualization. How could everything work out when the situation was so far beyond repair? "How are you so sure?"

"Because our employer knows everything. Didn't I just tell you that?"

_Well, thanks for the vague answer, Mae._

_Oh, that's right._ "Hey, um, where's Soren? Aren't you guys, like, a tag team?"

Mae turned in the air slowly, surveying the entire room with curious eyes. "He'll be here soon! He's out getting food for you."

_Food? They do know what their food will do to me, right?_

Just as those words passed her lips, I saw another delicate, odd-colored figure wiggle through my window. Soren's hands were cupped together over what I presumed was my meal. He was apprehensive but blunt as he waltzed over to me and shoved his hands in my face, demanding my attention.

"Oh, hey, Soren." I greeted, hoping that, for once, this antisocial child would actually branch out and start a conversation with me. _How could he be so quiet when his "sister" was so easy to talk to? _

He didn't respond and I tried not to take offense. I peeked into his palms as he loosened his grasp, revealing the meal he had gathered for me.

Walnuts. Just walnuts.

I glanced up at him, wondering if that really was all he could deliver, but his stoic face said enough. I shouldn't complain. They were already doing more than enough for me. I could willingly suspend my disbelief for a second and convince myself that the food here really was poisonous to me. That they really were trying to help me. That this really was the only thing that I could eat. As long as it kept me alive.

I thrust my palms outward and gave Soren a grateful but possibly overcompensatory smile. "Thank you, Soren." I knew that my smile wasn't as adorable as Alex's or as charming as Puck's, but it was the best that I could do. I didn't really smile often. _How depressing does that sound?_

Soren glowered at me as he tossed the nuts into my grasp. I was taken aback by his hostility. "I didn't do it for you. They were just my orders." This child really despised me, huh? I didn't think of myself as someone to be admired by all, but neither one to be abhorred. Was he jealous? Angry? I normally wouldn't worry too much, but since it appeared that these children would be watching over me from now on, I couldn't afford to piss them off. That was definite.

Mae stepped in front of him, feeling the tension rising. "Okay! That's where we take our leave!"

"You're not gonna stay?" Why did I want them to? Was I that lonely? After what had just happened, that was exactly correct. I didn't know what to think if I was left alone right now. I was afraid of the situations that my mind could create.

Mae clapped her hands together and gave me an extremely apologetic expression. "Sorry! We'll come see you tonight, but we were gonna assist with the search for Alex! Eat _all _of those, okie dokie? I'll know if you don't."

I knew not to rebuke because, before I could even take a breath to do so, they both were already flying toward the window. They escaped quickly into the setting sun and the room suddenly felt colder. I wrapped myself in the tattered blanket on my bed, but nothing could warm me.

Most of the time, when I put myself to bed during the winter, I decided to deal with the chill rather than get a spare blanket from the closet. I would always wake up with an extra blanket tossed over me. I used to sigh and mumble something about mom needing to take care of herself first before trying to care for me but, at this moment, I would nothing more than that spare blanket. Mom's hands on my shoulders, tucking the blanket under my sleeping form. Her kisses on my forehead.

I fell asleep eventually, warm tears heating up my cold cheeks.

My mirror had been written on. In red ink.

I woke up and was instantly faced with this message in bright crimson: Go to the garden outside of the West Wing and assist the servants.

It was hardly intelligible, but I understood the message. My assignment for the day as Oberon's "pet" was to do house chores, basically. Why hadn't he told me himself? I haphazardly put on my regular clothes, making sure to keep Excalibur, or_ whatever_ it was, in the corner of the cell.

Just as expected, the guards came to my room and shoved me into the prison hallway. They led me to the West Wing where a team of fae was digging and shoveling and landscaping in a swarm. I quickly joined the ranks, actually relieved. At least this was an activity that I liked. Flowers were everywhere and reviewing all of them gave me a sort of cathartic release. I tried not to think about my dangerous situation and, instead, on a multitude of scientific names and fun facts.

The next few days passed it a blur. Waking up to a creepy message on the mirror about the job for that day. I was told to cut the vines that were growing along the entire Eastern wall. I was instructed on how to place entirely new grass down on the lawn that had been "marred" by a brown patch that was just two feet wide. The servants weren't friendly, but they were at least civil. They gave me supplies and told me where the bathroom was. I wasn't too excited about _excreting_ in a _pail_, but I couldn't help it. This wasn't exactly a cushy lifestyle that I was trapped it.

The longer my servitude continued, the less I thought about escape and the more I thought about my insatiable hunger. Soren brought walnuts and some fruits every day, but they were less than filling. I probably lost five pounds in that first week.

On the mirror one morning, there was a note left in that hateful scrawled red handwriting. I rubbed my eyes as my vision slowly corrected itself. A few days ago, I had decided to take out my contacts since my vision wasn't too abysmal to begin with and they had really started bothering me. I sighed as I inspected this new message from my sketchy employer.

Go to the throne room. The king will assign you work this morn.

'_The king will assign you work this morn?' What kind of malicious chore does that flighty monarch have for me? Wait, hadn't the king been telling me what to do all along? _Unanswered questions kept piling up.

I dressed myself in the stained brown smock that Mae and Soren had brought for me and finished off my outfit with Alex's blue rain jacket. I figured that, if this 'work' in any way involved the outdoors, like I had been doing, my beanie would be able to hold back some of my crazy curly locks of hair. I dug my beanie out of my picnic basket, which I kept in the back of my cell for safekeeping. I hadn't needed to go in it often now that Soren brought me all of my "meals."

Within minutes, the usual guards were standing menacingly outside my door, banging on it as if they intended to break it down. I was outside in a matter of seconds, wearing a tired and sad grimace. I felt like a true prisoner. Especially when the guards placed some strange form of handcuffs around my wrists in case I became violent, like they had been doing since I tripped and a gardening tool had almost gouged someone's eye out. We began our customary walk down the halls of the prison and into the open air of the castle grounds.

I had realized that asking the guards for specifics about my situation was useless, since they were about as knowledgeable about their kingdom and their king's tendencies as I was. I had no idea how long I was going to be here, especially since Mae and Soren smoothly evaded answering me every time that I inquired about Alex's location. I was no closer to being free than I was a week ago.

Was this why I had been led into this place? To become the slave of some weird, cosplaying freak with really pale skin and a cult following?

This wasn't fair.

And as much as I wanted to continue to convince myself that everything I saw (whether it was walking, crawling, slithering, or flying) was still part of some drug-induced fever dream, it was getting harder. Every cut I received from gardening, the sickening smell of sweat emanating from my body after having not bathed in days, the long conversations with Mae and Soren as they floated in mid-air; they all felt too real to deny any longer.

When we reached the throne room, where I had first received my sentence to be King Oberon's "pet," there was a party in front of us. It consisted of an old, wrinkled fae and his wife, holding hands and carrying a basket of freshly picked goods. I could smell the alien scent from those plants wafting toward me and I had to remind myself of the consequences of eating fae food before I was able to calm myself. Could you blame me? I had been eating walnuts and drinking rain water for a week.

They were begging the king for some new policy to be placed on farming for food that I couldn't eat in a place that I had never heard of, so I tuned the poor old fae's words out.

One of the guards to my left snickered, "This old man's back again?"

"Yeah, isn't this the third time he's been here in the past two weeks?"

"He doesn't know when to give up."

"King Oberon will never accept such a ridiculous proposal."

"Just go home, old man."

I blanched at the guards' insults while the subject of their mockery was clearly able to hear everything. The old man ignored their jabs, but became more depressed as their voices deepened with spite. His head was now drooping as he struggled to answer one of Oberon's questions.

_How could they be so rude? I mean, I wasn't necessarily the friendliest person back in school, but I definitely didn't talk bad about someone right behind them! You cowardly assholes!_

Of course, I couldn't say this out loud unless I wanted them to tear me a _new _asshole.

My eyes wandered the throne room, eventually settling on the eerie but beautiful fresco on the ceiling. I spotted a mother cradling her crying baby. A pack of soldiers struggling with enemies. A woman crying over her dead husband's body. A man staring at his dismembered hand. I could almost hear his blood-curdling screams. It was an obvious depiction of war; however, all of the figures were in human form. What statement had Oberon intended? More to the point, why he did want an image of war and struggle to occupy the throne room?

In my peripheral vision, I caught something that made my stomach flip.

A group of fae dressed in such vibrant colors that, whether they were peasants or aristocrats, I wouldn't have been able to tell, was chatting happily on the South end of the hall. I couldn't hear what they were saying, nor did I care. One specific color among that group stood out. I tore my eyes away from that intriguing and startling fresco to gape at this painfully familiar color of red.

Puck.

Puck! It had to be him!

Even among fae with pink skin and lime green outfits, I spotted his shimmering red hair from across the hall in an instant. He was conversing with some servant fae, laughing as an older fae swatted at him, responding to probably a perverted joke. He was smiling with an enthusiasm that, just then, I realized that I had deeply missed and desired. He was about six inches taller than me, but my eyes went directly to his, holding onto those joyful emerald orbs for several moments.

His outfit wasn't the deep vee, brown slacks, and riding boots that I was used to. He was dressed in a long-sleeved, white, silky collared shirt with ruching around the center buttons. His pants were replaced by green pants that weren't fitted enough to be called "tights," but still didn't leave much of his toned body to the imagination. His shoes were tan suede flats with pointed toes. While I looked like shit wrapped in rags (no offence to Mae and Soren), he looked as if he had just stepped out of some fairy tale boutique.

Well, he could afford to dress that way. This _was_ his home, anyway.

I knew that I had to report to King Oberon and I wasn't sure what my fate would be if I deviated from that assignment, but I couldn't restrain the cry for acknowledgement and help that escaped.

"Puck!"

The hall echoed with my croaky, deep voice, one that was disgustingly full of anxiety and desperate hope. I could feel my whole body rise in the air as I stared at him, waiting for a response and praying for a positive one. My heart stopped when I saw him flinch. Had he heard me? Did he recognize my voice?

He swung his head around, searching for me with—what—what kind of face was _that_? His eyebrows were raised above dreary eyes. He looked bored, like an adult being pestered by a child. Had he really not realized that it was I calling out for him? Well, I had only known him for a few days. Maybe him being confusing wasn't a completely ridiculous prospect.

"Human." King Oberon's booming bravado brought me back to reality. "Why do you call for my jester to familiarly?"

That's right. Puck worked so closely to King Oberon that, of course, he would be shocked that I had any sort of previous interaction with him. But this didn't make sense. When I was captured by the Seelie soldiers, Puck was only a few yards away from me at the time. Had they not connected him to me or had they simply not found him at that time?

That would explain why he hadn't been around for the past week.

But why?

Without even acknowledging me with a nod or a wave or calling my name, Puck weaseled away from his fae groupies and headed toward the thrones. I latched my eyes onto his and waited for him to recognize me. My hair looked like a bird's nest and I was the only thing in the throne room covered in dirt, so I assumed that it wouldn't be that difficult to spot me. However, Puck's eyes never met mine.

In fact, it seemed as though he was purposefully avoiding them.

The next thing I knew, he was barely five feet away from me, creating a perfect contrast to my filth with his clean-cut garments. He smirked toward the Seelie king and queen while bending into an awkward, jokingly disrespectful and obnoxious bow, not sparing a glance in my direction. My heart beat faster and harder. I could feel my heartbeat in my veins and my hard-worked fingers.

I continued to gaze at him, wondering when it would happen. When he would turn to me with that dorky but charming smile and mutter, "What's up, buttercup?" or "How've ya been, kid?" I would laugh and we would reconcile and explain the entire situation to the Seelie King. I would be set free because of Puck's connections and we would meet with Grimalkin outside who would lead us to the trod.

None of this happened.

"Well, Oberon? You rang?" Puck kept his playful eyes locked on his stunning king.

Oberon announced, "Puck, have you met this human, the new wielder of Excalibur? She is staying in the castle."

_Staying? More like being kept prisoner, you ass wipe._

Although my mind was occupied with throwing insults at Oberon, I hadn't noticed Puck's eyes on me until he began to speak. He was standing straight now with an indecent smile, but somehow with more pride and grace than I had ever seen. He was probably expected to behave with some sort of decorum in front of the king, but this was so unlike him. I was used to the perverted, slick Puck, but he was somehow…different. Strange.

"It's a _pleasure _to make your acquaintance, beautiful miss." His darling smile made my pounding heart drop.

He didn't acknowledge me. He pretended not to know me.

Was this all to save his reputation with the king? To not have any previous engagements with a frail human girl to make the king suspicious?

I suddenly understood why he hadn't been brought directly back to the Seelie kingdom when I was captured in the woods. As I tried to analyze the cold, unfamiliar peculiarity in Puck's eyes, I had an epiphany.

He had deserted me in those woods.

Just like he was doing right now.

****So, we know that we said that we would never take so long to upload again but WE HAVE A GOOD EXCUSE THIS TIME! I SWEAR! We both moved into our college dorms last week and it's been pretty hectic. I still have shit on my floor that haven't found a place since move-in. Classes have too much work and no one hands out a freaking syllabus in person anymore! What the heck? I'm a Communication major! I have to SAVE my printer paper for essays and shit! Well, I could probably afford more of it if I hadn't bought ice cream for the past three nights…**

**But anyway…of course my birthday just HAD to be my first day of classes (which I thought would be totally awful) but I was told happy birthday by basically everyone in my dorm and my parents sent me flowers! Although, everything that I touch dies, so we'll see how long they last…**

**But I'm legal now! Yay! Even though the only thing that I'll actually do that's legal now is probably vote, but it's a status thing, you know? Anywho, we're currently in the middle of chapter 21 now so I'm hoping that our classes don't kick our asses too hard and we can get that out within this week. And if we can't, blame my squirrel attention span. I hope school goes well for you guys!****


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